


Against All Odds

by TinyGhostWriter



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-02-13 00:28:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 71
Words: 178,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12971724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyGhostWriter/pseuds/TinyGhostWriter
Summary: Ivy Belfrey didn't get bested by anyone, let alone succumb to the charms of a female drifter, and yet, here she was, losing herself within two sapphire irises, thinking about how they sparkled brighter than all of the stars across the night sky. Tilly, the residual shell of a young woman whom Ivy used to know.A treasured memory. Déjà-vu. History repeating itself. Ivy was making the same mistakes. If she facilitated these feelings, hoping that events unfolded in her favor this time, the results would be catastrophic. Conceal. Suppress. Pretend that the past had never happened. Ivy couldn't let the phantoms from a distant realm come back to haunt her.





	1. Soulmates

Chapter 1

Soulmates

* * *

 

Most people are exceedingly fascinated by the concept of soulmates, the idea that each single person in the universe has a predetermined life partner. Two individuals, selected through the whimsical machinations of fate, destined to meet at a particular moment, embark on a quest of self-discovery, and eventually fall in love with one another. The validity of horoscopes, the predictions made by astrology, the effectiveness of divine intervation, all these paranormal philosophies exhibit a certain appeal to enquiring minds.

Not everyone believed in the theory of soulmates. Romance was a delusional fantasy that cynicism and heartache often shattered. Some people couldn't afford to lose themselves in a fairytale, especially when their lives were plagued by pain. Others chose to ignore the overbearing weight of reality; dreams served as an distraction from the morose mechanisms of a routine existence.

A cold breeze engulfed the streets of Seattle, Washington. Tall structures towered over the city, sunlight shimmered on the panels of glass. Bathed in a reddish-purple hue, fluffy clouds decorated the sky. Mornings usually began with a promise that the evenings never fulfilled. Crowds of pedestrians polluted the sidewalks; hordes of motorists flooded the roads. Nothing ever changed; a notion that brought comfort to some, but sadness to others.

Golden curls blew in the autumn wind, a blue-eyed girl tethering on the rooftop of a relatively small building. Her legs hung over the ledge, hovering above a dark alleyway. She played with a Rubik’s cube, probing the toy in her hands, trying to decipher the puzzle. The scene was a symbolic reflection of the blonde's life.

A red flannel shirt, black leggings ripped at the sides, and mismatching jewelry adorning both arms. An intricate ring, the design of a rose woven around a crucifix was plastered on the metallic band. The young woman couldn’t recall where she had obtained her outfit. Born without a past. Trapped in a figurative prison. No prospects for the future.

The enigmatic individual, known as Tilly, she often became filled to the brim with reflective thoughts. Soulmates. Wishes. Magic. The young woman's sense of identity might have always been hazy, but that information might never cease to elude her. The blonde ascertained that she was called Tilly, the name scribbled on a bottle of prescription medication, a container found amongst the girl's meager possessions.

Uncertainty loomed at the bottom of Tilly's heart. A voice echoed throughout her head, whispering doubts and instilling fears, but not quite providing the disoriented young woman with any suitable answers. She couldn't recollect a single detail about her life. Tilly was a ghost to the world, and a stranger to herself. Time. Direction. Purpose. She felt like a ship lost at sea, a sailor who lacked a compass.

The pills kept her demons at bay, quelling the noises that reverberated across her mind. With pharmaceutical clarity, she judged her appearance and concocted assumptions about herself. Tilly figured that she might be a young adult, self-sufficient enough to live on her own. The golden-haired girl had no relatives or lifelong friends, but she was inherently capable of stealing and scamming. Tilly became a street delinquent, a decision made out of necessity, not by conscious choice. Everyone around her acted impersonal, as if all the residents were merely puppets, going through the motions.

Radiating an inexplicable allure that drew people to her, Tilly acquired a few male admirers. The blonde automatically discovered that she preferred the company of girls, but it was hard to make a meaningful connection with a person who didn't even know remember surname. All of Tilly's relationships had been casual and frivolous, fleeting affairs that ended almost as soon as they started.

Detective Weaver, the only constant in her life, a middle-aged police officer who had grown fond of Tilly. With the same morbid composition of a scarecrow, the shrew man looked more menacing than he really was. Detective Weaver frequently asked her for information on any miscreants and criminals that the golden-haired girl might occasionally encounter while she loitered around town. Tilly considered herself to be a special consultant, a crucial asset to the city's justice system. The fantasy of being a heroine gave Tilly hope in the face of her bleak existence.

On a regular day, Tilly would waste away the hours, sitting across the rooftop, glaring down at the people who commuted throughout the sidewalks. The transient neighborhood of Hyperion Heights, an urban area located in the outskirts of Seattle. Empty. Hollow. Fake. It felt as though the entire town district was under a spell. Tilly didn't feel like she belonged in such a monotonic setting.

Placing the Rubik’s cube on the concrete mantle next to her, Tilly yawned as she laid back. Stabilizing herself over the ridge of a two-story building, the fearless girl kept both arms folded under her neck, dozing off from time to time. The blonde knew that it was getting late, but she couldn't bring herself to abandon the serenity of the deserted rooftop. A tranquil place to rest her head, Tilly felt sedated by the gentle gust of air that grazed against her face as she napped across the elevated border.

"Victoria Belfrey owes me two payments of a thousand dollars!"

A gruff male voice roared from the alleyway, scaring off a flock of pigeons that had been perched in near proximity to Tilly. Eyelids fluttering open, the blonde became intrigued by the argument occurring down below. Tilly tried to peer over the ledge, yearning to get a better look at whoever was yelling.

Broad shoulders, tall stature, and scruffy hair, the blonde recognized the irritated man. Ralph, a local ruffian who often committed low-level crimes and petty thefts. His sinister services ranged from performing vandalism, dabbling in arson, and physically assaulting a selected target. Murder and kidnapping were not part of his repertoire, and for what it was worth, Tilly admired his minimal code of ethics.

"Don't you mean that she owes you two-thousand dollars?" An unseen young woman gave Ralph a snide reply, “Or maybe basic addition is too complex for you?”

"Hmph. I bet you think that you're a mighty clever little girl." Ralph growled.

A dumpster blocked Tilly's line of vision, she hopped on the fire escape staircase to get a clear view of the girl who was courageous enough to challenge an oversized thug. Climbing down the steps, Tilly slid along the ladder and flopped against the ground with ease. Lurking several feet behind Ralph, the blonde straightened herself out, adjusting her gaze forward to survey the older man's precocious companion.

Ocean-blue irises bore into a pair of contrasting auburn eyes. The young woman standing before Tilly was stunningly gorgeous. Magenta gloss coated a set of plump lips. Short tresses of raven hair, failing to reach down to her slim shoulders. A petite frame that somehow managed to display a commanding presence. She wore an vermilion blouse, composed of evidently expensive silk fabric. A black, pleated skirt, too short for its own good, revealed two sculpted, long legs. A designer brand purse completed the attire. Tilly had dealt with enough contraband items to know that all of the brunette's possessions were authentic. Dark pupils widened, noticing the blonde, a glimmer of an unreadable emotion flashed across her face. Curious by nature, Tilly couldn't help but feel drawn to the strikingly beautiful girl.

Ralph realized that the brunette had been captivated by something behind him, and he spun around to see Tilly approaching them. Calming down at the sight of the jovial girl, Ralph found joy in his amicable relationship with the young blonde. Using blithe charisma, Tilly could appease even the most unlikely of people.

"Good evening Ralph!" Tilly greeted the bulky man with exuberance, "Are you bothering this nice young lady?"

Winking in the brunette's direction, Tilly felt obligated to diffuse the situation before it escalated. Releasing a loud huff, Ralph crossed his arms. He frowned at the dark-haired girl, looking at her with sheer disdain.

"This is Victoria Belfrey's daughter, Ivy." Ralph sneered, "And she's just as toxic as her mother."

"And the plant." Tilly chimed in. Both Ralph and Ivy stated at the blonde.

"The what?" Ralph asked.

" _Poison ivy_. The plant." Tilly explained with a sigh, "It seemed like a good pun at the time."

A thunderous chuckle erupted out of Ralph, finally comprehending Tilly's odd joke. The enormous man shook his head as he laughed for an extended period of time, probably longer than was appropriate. Tilly smiled innocently, her eyes darting from Ralph to Ivy. The brunette didn't appear amused at all. A scowl graced the raven-haired girl's lips, contrasting with her otherwise attractive features.

"Always good for a laugh." Ralph snickered before he twisted around to face Ivy once more, "This puts me in a much better mood. I'll take up my grievances with your mother."

"Ha, poison ivy." Ralph patted Tilly's back, overvaluing the humor of her quip, "I'll see you around, Tills."

Stumbling to keep her footing after being thrown off balance by the brute's affectionate gesture, Tilly watched intently as Ralph stomped away and disappeared around the corner. A shroud of darkness falling over the neighborhood, the evening transformed into night. Lamp posts across the street flickered on, awakened due to the sun's departure.

"I don't remember asking for your help, blondie." Ivy sneered.

Ivy's haughty tone had no effect over Tilly, she simply grinned at the brunette. The blue-eyed girl ran a hand through her golden tendrils. Despite Ivy's cold demeanor, Tilly felt consumed by a warm sensation that she could not yet define.

"My name is Tilly, and you're welcome." Tilly chirped happily, extending her hand out, "Now, come on. I'll walk with you. This part of town becomes dangerous after the sun goes down."

Ivy scrunched up her nose, the blonde's positive attitude annoyed the frigid girl. Gripping the strap of her purse, she took a second to inspect her surroundings. Ivy had to admit that she would be safer traveling with Tilly than roaming this treacherous neighborhood by herself at night.

"Fine." Ivy grunted, sidestepping around Tilly and disregarding the other girl's outstretched arm, "But don't slow me down."

With a dramatic groan, Ivy sauntered to the alleyway's exit. She begrudgingly walked at a sluggish pace, waiting for Tilly to follow her. The blonde dropped her hand, and enthusiastically scurried toward Ivy, unperturbed by the dark-haired girl's ingrate rudeness.

"I'm sorry." Tilly murmured, skipping alongside the brunette.

A random and unnecessary statement, Ivy whipped her head around, gazing at the blonde with a confused grimace plastered across her face. When it became apparent that Tilly wasn't going to elaborate on her apologetic declaration, Ivy felt curiosity bubbling from the inside of her stomach.

"Why are you sorry?" Ivy grumbled.

"Well, first I was thinking that your mother could have sent someone less precious to her on this particular errand." Tilly sighed wistfully, "But then I realized that she might not value you as much as a mother should."

Gritting her teeth, Ivy scoffed at the blonde's precise deduction. She hated the fact that a stranger could easily recognize how little Victoria Belfrey cared about her. It should be embarrassing, for an orphan vagabond to sympathize with Ivy, but it was absolutely  _humiliating_ to have a mother who would risk putting her in peril.

"Don't be daft." Ivy snapped angrily, "My mother just trusts me above all her other employees."

"Hm. Alright." Tilly replied tenderly, ending the discussion with a solemn nod.

It was unclear what infuriated Ivy more, how Tilly had quickly agreed with her, or the suspicion that the blonde wanted to avoid an argument. She clenched her fingers into a fist, frustrated by Tilly's nonchalant responses. Ivy refused to address the issue that truly bothered her, so she settled for sulking quietly.

Utterly oblivious to the raven-haired girl's discontent, Tilly shoved both hands in the pockets of her denim skirt. She softly hummed a melody to herself, a blithe harmony that resonated through the barren streets. 

A mystifying ambience developed between Ivy and Tilly, both girls journeyed toward the wealthier section of Hyperion Heights. Tilly didn't seem to notice that Ivy was upset with her. The blonde cheerfully whistled a tune that her brown-eyed companion found familiar, but couldn't quite recognize.

"What song are you mumbling to yourself?" Ivy broke the silence.

"It's from _Tangled_. You know, the animated movie made by Disney." Tilly was thrilled to have piqued Ivy's interest, "The song that Rapunzel and Flynn Ryder perform together."

"Eugene Fitzherbert." Ivy corrected.

"Huh?" Tilly blinked blankly.

The blue-eyed girl tilted her head to the side, perplexed by Ivy's statement. Tilly's adorable mannerisms were flustering the brunette. Ivy's pulse sped up, mortified with her own behavior. It was awful enough that Ivy had admitted to knowing extensive details about a film meant for children, she at least wanted to compose herself before answering.

"Flynn Rider is Eugene Fitzherbert." Ivy elaborated, "In the movie, he told Rapunzel his true name."

"Oh, right!" Tilly gave Ivy a wide grin, "When he was beginning to fall in love with her."

A blush spreading across her cheeks, Ivy cleared her throat. Tilly took note of the brunette's anxiety, wondering why the dark-haired girl was so nervous around her. Ivy came to an abrupt stop in front of a tall edifice, prompting Tilly to refrain from walking any further.

Assessing the large skyscraper, the blonde knew that the residence was luxurious. Despite of its elegance and grandeur, the building looked despondent and uninviting, much like Ivy Belfrey herself. The windows stared down at them, as if it were a many-eyed monster, a giant monolith of cement and steel.

"This is where I live." Ivy spoke with a sense of disappointment.

"Seems rather-" Tilly paused before choosing her next words, "Ahem. Very cozy."

"It's better than living in the streets." Ivy spat bitterly.

Ivy instantly regretted her words, but she had been angered. The dark-haired girl just wasn't able to control her temper.  Distressing and a bit alarming, Tilly possessed a gift for perceiving accurate insight, effectively uncovering all of Ivy's hidden sentiments. The blonde stayed unfazed by the malicious comment, smiles were permanent fixtures on her face. Truth be told, Tilly didn't deserve the brunette's cruel remarks. In lieu of an apology, Ivy reached into her handbag and pulled out a wallet.

"Anyways." Ivy avoided Tilly's inquisitive eyes, "How much do I owe you?"

"Hm?"

"How much money, for escorting me home?" Ivy tapped her foot impatiently.

"Oh." Tilly threaded a hand through her hair, "Nothing."

"What do you mean?" Ivy asked incredulously, "Why would you walk me home if you didn't want to be compensated?"

"I didn't want anything bad to happen to you." Tilly shrugged.

"And why would you care if something bad happened to me?" Ivy countered.

Clicking her tongue, Tilly pondered over the brunette's question. She wasn't aware as to _why_ Ivy's well-being mattered to her, it just did. Most people don't know the reason behind every occurrence, some things shouldn't require an in-depth analysis.

"Well, why does _anyone_ care about another person?" Tilly smirked, "Goodnight, Miss Ivy Belfrey."

The young woman's expression softened as the blonde bowed down comically. Heart beating at an erratic rate, Tilly clearly made Ivy feel uneasy, out of her element. She became disconcerted by the taller girl's antics, and it caught her off-guard.

 _Ivy Belfrey_ didn't get bested by anyone, let alone succumb to the charms of a female drifter, and yet, here she was, losing herself within two sapphire irises, thinking about how they sparkled brighter than all of the stars across the night sky. Tilly, the residual shell of a young woman whom Ivy used to know.

A treasured memory. _Déjà-vu_. History repeating itself. Ivy was making the same mistakes. If she facilitated these feelings, hoping that events unfolded in her favor this time, the results would be catastrophic. Conceal. Suppress. Pretend that the past had never happened. Ivy couldn't let the phantoms from a distant realm come back to haunt her.

Smiling like a child, Tilly waved at the raven-haired girl for a little too long. Ivy's mind was elsewhere, contemplating the blonde. Spinning around against a heel, Tilly retreated in the direction of her ghetto community. She spared a glance back at Ivy, amused by the way that the brunette's soulful eyes kept scrutinizing her. Tilly took pride in having left quite an impression on the other young woman.

Hyperion Heights, the ghost town continued to be a baffling conundrum. After recent ordeals, Tilly didn't care that she wasn't any closer to determining the truth about herself. The desolate neighborhood. Her past. Ivy Belfrey. Mysteries, waiting to be solved. In spite of it all, soulmates were still an ideal illusion that Tilly firmly believed in, and perhaps, now more so than ever.


	2. White Hair Silver Needles

Chapter 2

White Hair Silver Needles

* * *

 

Glimmering down upon the city of Seattle, the sun made an appearance among a clear morning sky. A relatively gorgeous day, free from the usual clouds that cluttered the stratosphere. The weather was ideal for taking a stroll through some blossoming gardens or meandering around in a community park. An opportunity that most residents didn't want to waste, not often could people relish the benefits of experiencing such a pleasant climate.

Regardless of the projected forecast, Tilly had grown accustomed to the great outdoors, an adverse side-effect of being homeless. Truth be told, the crowded streets did facilitate the golden-haired girl's ability to pickpocket from unsuspecting commuters. A petty form of thievery that Tilly resorted to in desperate times. Lacking a document to prove that she possessed some level of education, the blonde was unable to acquire a job. Tilly couldn't help but struggle to make money through legal means, which prompted her into having to develop a talent for larceny.  
  
Snatching an object off from a person without them noticing the theft involved a considerable amount of dexterity, as well as a knack for misdirection. Tilly focused solely on taking paper currency, avoiding items that might have sentimental value to her victims. She never stole credit cards, since the young woman didn't want to give the authorities a way of tracking her down.    
  
It was typically a boring affair. The routine of wandering down the streets, casually bumping against pedestrians and grabbing their wallets. Tilly had turned the crime into a masterful piece of choreography. A repetitive pattern, producing the same results, the very definition of insanity. The blonde didn't mind though, something had recently altered her negative perspective, she had obtained a more positive outlook on her life in Hyperion Heights.  
  
The monotonous ambience of the neighborhood was shattered. The air felt richer, full of sweet scents that Tilly had failed to notice before. The grass seemed greener, the sky glowed bluer, every color shined brighter now, almost as if a spell had been broken. Tilly couldn't exactly pinpoint when the change occurred, but she didn't even care.  
  
With a skip in her step, Tilly became lost in her own fantasy when she turned the corner. Accidentally ramming into someone was quite different from purposely stumbling against a predetermined target who the blonde planned on robbing. First of all, it caught her completely unprepared, and second, she caused quite the commotion. The blonde didn't look up as she began stuttering an apology, attempting to avoid a chaotic scene.  
  
"I'm so very sorry for-"  
  
"Ugh. It's _you_ again." A familiar voice interrupted Tilly's lamentation.

Cerulean eyes widening, a jovial grin materialized onto the blonde's face. She patted down her mangy clothes, fingers adjusted the collar of the shirt, flattening the corner flaps.  
  
"Oh, if it isn't Miss Ivy Belfrey." Tilly threaded her fingers through a mane of golden locks, "I would have tried to look more presentable if I had known that I'd be running into you."  
  
"I highly doubt that you own more than one outfit." Ivy quipped rudely, but the corners of her mouth shifted upward into a lighthearted smile.  
  
Instead of being offended by the brunette's insult, Tilly threw her head back and laughed. It was sort of flattering, how Ivy remembered Tilly's red flannel shirt from their last encounter.

Ivy was such an odd person; she made cruel remarks that often felt half-hearted. On top of it all, Ivy owned the loneliest pair of eyes that Tilly had ever seen. What a beautiful mystery. The dark-haired girl must have been raised by a herd of wild wolves because she didn't know how to behave properly during simple social interactions. 

"You'll just have to see me more frequently to find out, eh?" Tilly smirked, "What brings you back to this district? Unless mocking homeless people is a hobby of yours."  
  
"Hmph." Ivy huffed, "My mother sent me out on an errand."  
  
"Again?" Tilly quirked an eyebrow, "She sounds a bit demanding."  
  
"You have no idea." Ivy sighed.  
  
"And what does she want with a bunch of white hair silver needles?" Tilly jested, "Is she Maleficent?"   
  
"Wait, how did you-" Ivy began rummaging through her handbag.

"You should really be more cautious with your belongings around a thief." Tilly waved a little slip of paper in front of the brunette, "Anyhow, why _white hair silver_ needles? Isn't it just one color or the other?"  
  
Emitting a frustrated groan, Ivy swiped the note from out of the blonde's hand. She spared one last glimpse at it before shoving the piece of parchment back into her ebony tote. Recomposing herself, embarrassed of Tilly's teasing, the brunette scowled. Ivy knew that she should relent an explanation, the streetwise blonde could possibly aide her in completing Victoria's task.  
  
"White Hair Silver Needles is the name of a rare Chinese tea." Ivy muttered, "And I can't seem to find it anywhere."  
  
"Oh, you mean Baihao Yinzhen tea." Tilly declared, "No wonder you can't find it anywhere. You need to go to a Chinese shop."  
  
"And I would!" Ivy folded her arms, "If I knew where I could located one in Hyperion Heights. This neighborhood is quite dull."  
  
"Hm, that's true." Tilly scratched her head, agreeing with the brunette's observation, "I need to think... Somewhere to find rare Chinese tea..."  
  
As the blonde pondered on a solution, Ivy stared at her inquisitively. She didn't expect someone like Tilly to be so well-informed when it came to herbal leaves. The golden-haired vagrant even knew the tea's original Chinese name. Ivy was a bit dazzled by other girl, but she would never admit the sentiment to herself, much less share that revelation with Tilly.  
  
"Oh, I got it!" Tilly exclaimed, "I know a place and-"  
  
"I need tea leaves, not marijuana." Ivy rolled her eyes.  
  
"Hey! It sells all kinds of _legal_ herbs!" Tilly chirped, pretending to take offense, "Come with me."  
  
Ivy gasped as the blonde grabbed her wrist, pulling her forward. Tilly adjusted her grip as she led them down a street, intertwining their fingers together. The blonde was unaware that the intimacy of the contact had caused a blush to spread across Ivy's cheeks, a pink tint coloring her porcelain skin.   
  
The dark-haired girl's face became flushed, a mixture of indignation and enjoyment. There was something gratifying about the way that Tilly held her hand firmly. _Nostalgia_. An uncontrollable warmth swelled within Ivy's chest, and against every form of better judgment, she allowed the impulsive young woman to drag her along to an unknown destination.

* * *

The Chinese supermarket was flooded with people, all of them browsing through the many aisles of the facility. Dead animals hung over hooks, an unsettling sight. A range of items filled up the shelves, an assortment of products on display, bamboo shoots, bok choy, bean sprouts, welsh onions, mustard greens, jasmine rice, century eggs, prawn crackers, and tobi nuts.    
  
The noisy environment of customers haggling for lower prices irritated Ivy. It wasn't comparable to any store that she had ever shopped at. Endowed with a calm attitude, Tilly remained unperturbed amidst the hectic atmosphere. Her cerulean eyes roamed across the establishment, presumably in search of the tea selection. She navigated through the multitude of patrons. Waving her hand, the blonde signaled Ivy to follow.  
  
Tilly stopped in front of a food stand, confectioneries had been settled over the table. Mooncakes, egg tarts, almond biscuits, banana rolls, and other delicacies were being exhibited. The golden-haired girl surveyed the pastries, selecting two white slabs.  
  
"Do you want to try a coconut bar?" Tilly inquired as she paid one of the vendor.  
  
"What? No! I just want to find the tea that my mother wants." Ivy felt aggravated, "Besides, I don't eat carbs."  
  
Twisting her face in confusion, Tilly inspected the white desserts. After a quick assessment, she shrugged dismissively. Tilly began to nibble on one coconut bar, extending her hand out to present Ivy with the other slice.  
  
"I am pretty sure that this isn't a carb." Tilly stated, "It's a coconut bar."

No one had given her a gift in a long time, so consequently, Ivy didn't remember how to politely accept the offering. At a tentative pace, the brunette retrieved the coconut bar off from Tilly's inviting palm. 

Ivy took a small bite. The gelatin-like texture felt soft against Ivy's teeth, a sweet flavor overwhelmed her taste-buds. It was a delightful treat, and she couldn't prevent her mouth from contorting into a smile.  
  
"Good, right?" Tilly grinned cheekily.  
  
"Y-Yes." Ivy forced a frown upon her face, "I suppose."  
  
Shaking her head knowingly, Tilly reclaimed the dark-haired girl's hand. She navigated through the supermarket, hauling Ivy alongside her. The store held an endless maze of corridors, but Tilly guided her swiftly to the area reserved for tea leaves. Multicolored boxes stacked up on top of each other. The labels were in traditional Chinese writing that Ivy was unable to read. Much to the brunette's surprise, Tilly plucked one of the packages from the shelf and placed it over her hand.  
  
"Here." Tilly said confidently, "One pack of Baihao Yinzhen tea."  
  
"You can read Chinese symbols?" The blonde continued to perplex Ivy.  
  
"Hànzì." Tilly nodded, "And yes, I can. Are you impressed?"  
  
"Hardly." Ivy scoffed.  
  
"Phew." Tilly whistled, "You're really a hard one to charm. My accent usually has a better effect on pretty girls."  
  
"W-What do you even mean?" Ivy stammered nervously, "I'm not- I don't get charmed by girls."  
  
"Well, in case you were wondering, I do rather fancy girls." Tilly disclosed, "I have no real interest in blokes."

"And I have _no real interest_ in your sexuality." Ivy sneered, crossing her arms.  
  
Although Ivy turned her face away from Tilly, she permitted the blonde to guide her toward the cash register. Ivy refused to let the other girl see her blush. The inappropriate flirtatious gibes, this particular girl should no longer affect her in such a disconcerting fashion, but the brunette couldn't handle the way that Tilly's behavior made her feel.

Certain elitist members of society still frowned upon people who displayed an unconventional sexual inclination. Ivy needed to stay in control, instead of giving Victoria any more reasons to shun her. Harboring a romantic attraction for a homeless young woman, Ivy knew that she couldn't afford to indulge those familiar desires. Not ever again. Similar feelings had led Ivy astray in the past, the brunette wouldn't be seduced by the shadow of the girl that she once loved.  
  
Waiting in line became an outrageously awkward affair. Ivy kept stealing glances at Tilly when she thought that the blonde wasn't looking. Both young women stood silently next to each other. Tilly hummed a gleeful melody while Ivy dwelled on how she didn't understand the strange power that the blue-eyed girl had over her.  
  
"Do you want a nougat?" Tilly shoved a packet of candy in front of Ivy.  
  
"Where did you even get that?" Ivy wondering how the blonde had magically procured the bag of snacks.  
  
The pieces were chewy cylinders, covered in individual wrappers, with the texture of taffy. Reading the label, Ivy choked back a giggle. _White Rabbit Creamy Candy_. Tilly refrained from asking what the brunette found so funny about the name, since she didn't want to spoil Ivy's sudden burst of good humor.  
  
"I bought them with the coconut bars." Tilly explained, "You didn't notice before. Mostly because you were too busy contemplating whether or not to eat the slice that I offered you, remember?"  
  
"You need to consume something other than sugar." Ivy scolded as she took a step closer to the cash register, "An actual meal."  
  
"That settles it." Tilly followed Ivy in moving up the line, "You should buy me lunch."  
  
Developing a migraine, Ivy brought a hand up to her head. An exasperated breath escaped out of the brunette's parted lips, she was slowly being driven insane by the most problematic resident in Hyperion Heights.  
  
"I suppose that I do owe you, for helping me." Ivy relented.  
  
"Twice." Tilly chimed in.  
  
"Don't push it." Ivy narrowed her eyes at the blonde, who responded with a soft giggle.  
  
A facade that had taken eight years to construct, becoming unhinged in a matter of minutes. Ivy must work harder on maintaining her frigid demeanor. The brunette tried to appear unapproachable, a defense mechanism that kept her free from emotional compromising attachments.

 _One bitten, but twice shy_. A cliché quote that adequately described Ivy's current disposition. Devoted in abiding to a set of rules that she had established for herself, Ivy didn't know why she couldn't manage to stay away from Tilly.

* * *

A flock of mockingbirds tweeted a cheerful tune, fluttering across the expanse. Fields of purple petunias, bright daffodils, and crimson roses decorated the surrounding fields. Children's laughter filled the air, countless families were gathered around the park to revel in a delightful outing.  
  
Ivy wouldn't have agreed to join Tilly for lunch if she had known about the venue that the blonde was going to choose. Resting against a bench, near a multitude of loud people, evidently not Ivy's favorite setting, to say the least. The brunette sat next to Tilly, auburn eyes fixated on the golden-haired girl beside her.

Out of everything that Tilly might have requested as a meal, the young woman only wanted an orange marmalade sandwich. Ivy just couldn't understand her lackluster decision. Legs crossed on top of the wooden surface, the blonde was equipped with a carefree personality that didn't match up to her age, and yet, it somehow made Tilly irresistibly magnetic to Ivy.  
  
"An orange marmalade sandwich? Are you a child?" Ivy grimaced with disgust, "You could have asked me to take you to a French café, ordered an exquisite croque monsieur, and-"

The last time that Ivy could recall having eaten an orange marmalade sandwich, she was a small child, attending a quaint, little picnic and being presented with a simple lunch meal made by her older sister. The brunette pushed away a second memory, one that involved a rowdy bundle of yellow curls and posed a psychological threat to who Ivy Belfrey needed to be now.

"You do know that means 'Mister Crunch' in French, right?" Tilly chuckled, "Sounds a bit more childish than a marmalade sandwich."  
  
"How can you possibly know French too?" Ivy shook her head in disbelief.  
  
"And to think that if I were a boy, you'd be impressed." Tilly teased.  
  
"Hm." A twinkle of mirth sparkled across Ivy's expression as she purred, "Maybe I'm realizing that boys are overrated."  
  
Her cheeks reddening, Tilly choked on a bite of bread. She didn't think Ivy would rebuttal her joke in an equally playful manner. Their witty banter had often been one-sided, with Tilly emerging victorious after each round. Surveying the comical shock painted across Tilly's face, Ivy couldn't prevent a laugh from slipping out of her lips. It was the blonde's turn to feel mortified. 

"Dully noted." Tilly gave Ivy one of her signature half-smirks as she finished her sandwich.  
  
Molding the tissue wrapper into a ball, Tilly tossed the scrap of garbage at a trashcan that laid quite a few meters away from the bench. With a thud, the sphere of rubbish flopped inside the cylindrical basin. Ivy couldn't figure out how the blonde had managed to make such a successful throw. It was almost as if sheer dumb luck came to aid Tilly in her ludicrous endeavors.  
  
"All joking aside..." Tilly paused for a few seconds, "I much rather eat a marmalade sandwich with you out here, than dine on some overly expensive croissant inside a stuffy restaurant."  
  
" _Dully noted._ " Ivy conceded a sincere smile as she echoed Tilly's phrase back at her.  
  
Sitting in a tranquil quietude for a few more minutes, Ivy couldn't identify the warm sensation that took a hold of her heart. Peace. Serenity. Happiness. It was one of those feelings that the raven-haired girl didn't remember how to normally process. Victoria Belfrey. Her mother. The white tea leaves. Stress and anxiety quickly replaced whatever benevolent emotion she had been experiencing with Tilly.  
  
"I have to go." Ivy stood up abruptly, "My mother wanted me to have this tea prepared for her by noon. I'm already late as it is."  
  
"Then you better hurry." Tilly hopped off from the bench, "Adieu, Miss Ivy Belfrey."  
  
After saluting the brunette as if she were a soldier, Tilly turned to leave. Fingers coiled around her arm, holding the blonde in place. She looked down at the hand latched on to her, then up to scan Ivy's face for an explanation. Determination gleamed across those two auburn irises, Tilly didn't expect the dark-haired girl to willingly make physical contact with someone as meager and scruffy as her.  
  
"Um. I just w-wanted to say-" Ivy was flabbergasted, stuttering with her own words, "Thank you, f-for the tea, and for how you escorted me home the other day."  
  
Releasing the blonde from her grasp, Ivy drew back her own arm slowly. Tilly had never heard the articulate girl fumble with her speech before, it was rather cute.  
  
"You already thanked me." Tilly said reassuringly, "One marmalade sandwich is the price for my services."  
  
"I'll keep that in mind for next time." Ivy replied with a small grin, bobbing her head as she departed.

Mechanically waving like the animatronics at an amusement park, the blonde simply stood there. Her mouth involuntarily transformed into a beaming smile, exposing a row of white, brilliant teeth. Tilly was mesmerized, almost as if Ivy had casted a curse on her.

Engrossed in a trance, Tilly watched how the dark-haired girl's hips swayed as she walked toward the Belfrey Towers, her mother's business headquarters. Replaying the brunette's message in her head several times, the most important thought on Tilly's mind was the unprecedented notion that Ivy wanted to see her again.


	3. Impossible Puzzles

Chapter 3

Impossible Puzzles

* * *

 

The only notable sight that Hyperion Heights had to offer could be found under the Aurora Bridge. A large statue of a troll, holding a car within one of its giant hands, erected as an elongated pillar of reinforcement. The monument was shaped like the malicious ogre that haunted the heroes of some fairytales, the foreboding figure of a monster. Quite the distinguishable landmark, the concrete monolith earned the appraisal of the intrepid tourists who visited the neighborhood.

Due to its remote location, Tilly took pleasure in squatting on top of the grandiose sculpture. An isolated place, hidden from the rustling noise of the city streets. Tinkering with her Rubik's cube, the blonde could squander away the hours, trying to solve the intricate puzzle box. It was a fun, but futile affair, since all the sides of the childish toy were missing stickers. Eventually, the loud rumblings emitted by her stomach indicated that she had lost track of time.

It must have been around noon, possibly even later. Tilly didn't really want to purchased lunch, limited by her strict budget. Street urchins couldn't afford to consume three substantial meals per day. That luxury was reserved for people with stable income or a charitable support system.

Afflicted by the pangs of starvation, the blonde grumbled to herself, shifting against the gigantic obelisk that she had been resting on. A brief nap might quench her hunger cravings for a little while longer.

"Tilly! Are you up there?"

Eyelids blinking wide open, Tilly straightened herself up and sprang onto her feet. She could recognize that voice anywhere. Patting down her golden curls to look presentable, the blonde was grateful to be wearing a different outfit than usual. Unfortunately, a loose-fitting grey top, accompanied by a ripped pair of denim jeans, weren't expected to captivate Ivy Belfrey’s admiration. Leaning over the edge of the concrete troll, Tilly greeted her dark-haired guest with an amused smirk.

"Good morning, Miss Ivy Belfrey." Tilly imitated a nobleman's traditional bow.

"It's three in the afternoon." Ivy sighed, shaking a brown paper bag that she held in one hand, "And I require your services."

"Oh?" Tilly lifted an eyebrow, "And how did you manage to find me?"

Tilly jumped from off the tall sculpture, landing on her feet with a graceful ease. Taking a few steps toward her, the blonde accepted Ivy's gift, grinning like a fool when she opened it up to reveal a marmalade sandwich. Based on the generous proportions of ingredients, the edible concoction must be homemade, which was incredibly shocking. Tilly couldn't fathom that someone as pretentious as Ivy would have bothered to make a meal for her.

"Did _you_ make this yourself?" Tilly inquired.

"Is it not up to your high-quality standards?" Ivy snapped harshly, concealing her own insecurity.

"No, that's not what I meant." Tilly waved both hands, mollifying the brunette's anger, "I'm actually quite flattered."

"Well, get over it." Ivy tried to mask her blush with a factitious frown, "I need a favor."

"Yes, I'll do it." Tilly proclaimed, biting into her sandwich.

"You don't even know what I'm going to ask of you!"

"But I’ll agree to anything because this sandwich was so expertly constructed! A masterpiece of the culinary arts! Such splendid craftsmanship!"

"You're still such a clown." Ivy chuckled to herself.

With a mouthful of bread, Tilly struggled to conceive a response. She observed something particularly perplexing in respect to Ivy's last statement. She implied that Tilly was _still such a clown_. Such a bold observation to make about someone who Ivy had just met a few weeks ago. The blonde didn't want to push the volatile girl away, so she decided to continue savoring her meal.

"I need you to find something for me." Ivy muttered, "A violin."

"So, you need me to take you to a store that sells musical instruments?" Tilly tilted her head.

"No, it's a pre-owned violin."

"And your mother can't use her influential ways to help you find it?"

"My mother would rather scoop out her own eyes than do something nice for me!" Ivy sounded upset, "She was the one who got rid of my old violin, several years ago. I want to see if I can find it. End of discussion. Can you help me or not?"

Scratching her head, the blonde didn't know what to do when confronted with Ivy's icy demeanor. She wanted to help the dark-haired girl, but the chances of finding her childhood violin were most likely slim to none. Tilly suspected that a part of the brunette was aware of the situation's hopeless nature.

"I'll try my best, Ivy." Tilly promised, "I know a few pawnshops that might have violins, but all of them are a considerable distance away from here."

"And that's exactly why I brought my car. We don't have to walk like peasants." Ivy smirked, being unnecessarily arrogant, "Come along, and finish your sandwich. I don't want you to drop crumbs on my upholstery."

After Tilly shoved the remaining morsels of the marmalade sandwich into her mouth, the brunette led her across the street. Pulling a set of car keys from her expensive black tote, Ivy clicked on the alarm tablet.

At the end of the sidewalk, the headlights belonging to a nearby sedan vehicle blinked. Although Tilly didn't have a lot of knowledge on automobile brands, she could tell that the brunette's car was luxurious. Ivy opened the driver's door, tapping the handle impatiently as she waited for Tilly to board.

Slipping inside of Ivy's vehicle, the blonde flopped on top of the passenger's seat. She took a whiff of the scent that a new automobile was known to possess, quickly realizing how impersonal the car's interior seemed. The dashboard didn't have any ornamental trinkets or decorative figures, Ivy's blatant lack of sentimentality became apparent.

"I hate the odor of a new car." Ivy complained as her key slid into the ignition slot, "Most people enjoy it, but it smells too much like formaldehyde to me."

"I agree." Tilly nodded.

"You do?" Ivy was surprised.

"Is it so hard to believe that our thoughts coincide on at least one topic?" Tilly giggled as she fastened her seat-belt.

"No, I suppose not." Ivy gave Tilly a faint smile, "Now, where is the first pawnshop?"

"Hm." Tilly held her chin as she pondered the options available to them, "Drive straight ahead, and I'll tell you when to turn."

"Are you sure?" Ivy didn't trust the golden-haired girl's vague sense of direction.

"Have I ever let you down?" Tilly placed her hand on Ivy's hand.

"No." Ivy admitted softly, " _You_ have not."

Tilly dropped her arm, fingers grazing against the brunette's knuckles. She turned her attention forward, reading the road signs as Ivy shifted the vehicle into motion. The dark-haired girl was grateful for how Tilly never managed to notice any of the innumerable blushes that she had induced across Ivy's cheeks.

An endearing silence to fell upon them, both young women kept pretending to focus on the road ahead. The rest of the journey went by uneventful, apart from brief glances that Ivy and Tilly would give one another. Each girl was lost in her own set of ruminations, fleeting thoughts that were remarkably similar.

* * *

The drive to a pawnshop was short, but the search for the particular violin proved to be fruitless every time. Flutes. Harmonicas. Trumpets. The stores collected an assortment of musical instruments, and yet, the elegant string apparatus proved to evasive.

Tilly didn't even know what to look for, since the only adjectives that Ivy had used to describe her old violin were 'brown' and 'glossy.' It was not Tilly's fault that these generic sensory words failed to be helpful, but she still felt utterly useless.

Ivy kept darting in and out of every establishment, not sparing their merchandise a second glance. Her frustration would increment after each unsuccessful attempt. She didn't want to misuse any excess time by inspecting an item that clearly wasn't the one being sought. The brunette's auburn eyes could easily assess the violins on the racks. None of them belonged to her.

Utilizing context clues and the raven-haired girl's vague comments, Tilly deduced that the violin held a special meaning to Ivy. It wasn't until the pair had searched the last pawnshop in Hyperion Heights that Tilly finally discerned how important the symphonic contraption must be to the brunette.

As the sun disappeared into the west horizon, the unwinding streets became dark and foreboding. A low humming noise resonated throughout the sedan, the sound of tires grinding across the pavement. Tilly felt as though she had defrauded her raven-haired companion, incapable of delivering on the promise to reacquire the violin.

"Damn it! This was such a colossal waste of time." Ivy dug her nails into the steering wheel as she drove Tilly back to the Aurora Bridge.

"I'm really sorry." Tilly murmured, "Turn here."

"This path doesn't take you back to that troll monument." Ivy noted.

"No. It doesn't." Tilly agreed, "But you could use a treat."

"I'm fine, I just need-"

"Park right here." Tilly advised.

With an irritated huff, the brunette slowed the vehicle down and neared the edge of the street. Shifting the sedan into park, Ivy watched as the golden-haired girl winked at her before jumping out of the car. Tilly hadn't even bothered to check the side-view in order to avoid the ongoing traffic. Ivy shook her head, the blonde was incorrigible.

Half an hour passed, Tilly glided back into the automobile as effortlessly as she had hopped out. The blonde was carrying two ice-cream cones, one held a chocolate scoop, and the other carried an unidentifiable green-colored flavor. She repositioned herself on the passenger's seat, facing Ivy with an amicable grin.

"Chocolate or Pistachio?" Tilly chirped, holding out both ice-cream cones.

"I'm not a petulant child! I cannot be appeased with sweets just because I'm upset!" Ivy roared, her hands gripping the steering wheel.

"..." Tilly was unperturbed, "Chocolate then?"

Ivy narrowed her eyes at the blonde, unable to conserve a stern expression. The misplaced anger dissipated slowly. Her unpleasant demeanor was defeated by the manner in which the light from the lamp posts glimmered against Tilly's aquamarine irises. Despite Ivy's hysterical outburst, the golden-haired girl continued to smile at her gently.

"Come on." Tilly coaxed, "You can tell me all about the violin, and what it meant to you."

With a subtle bob of her head, Ivy accepted the terms of the blonde's proposal. She reached out to take the chocolate ice-cream cone, feeling a warm fluttering in the pit of her stomach when her fingers brushed against Tilly's palm during the exchange. 

For a while, Ivy didn't speak. The brunette solely focused on the task of eating her frozen confection. Staring at the dashboard with a distant gaze, she didn't even see how quickly the blonde had consume her own ice-cream cone. When Ivy finished the treat, Tilly gave her a napkin, providing a wordless sort of comfort.

"My stepmother gave me the violin for my b-birthday." Ivy trembled as she spoke.

"You have a stepmother?" Tilly took the liberty of resting her hand on Ivy's lap.

"I _had_ a stepmother; she died a long time ago. When I was small, my father and mother got separated. He remarried a woman named Cecelia. She was the only real mother that I-” Ivy bit her lower lip, “C-Cecelia actually made me feel loved."

"Tell me about her." Tilly's voice was as soothing as lullaby.

"Cecelia was fearless, intelligent, and so very kind." Ivy smiled as she thought about her stepmother, "I miss her."

"Sounds like I would have fancied Cecelia." Tilly squeezed the brunette's knee.

"You _did_." Ivy stated, "I mean, you w-would have."

Another slip of the tongue from Ivy, an erroneous choice in grammar that Tilly was more than capable of perceiving, as well as graciously ignoring. Regardless of the blonde's aptitude for curiosity, she didn't want to tarnish the tender moment that Ivy had allowed her to witness. Tilly wouldn't harass the dark-haired girl during a rare display of vulnerability.

Light brown eyes started to water as Ivy struggled to maintain a semblance of composure by sniffling her nose. A lone tear slid down the brunette's cheek, and Tilly wasted no time in wiping the droplet off with her finger. An unexpected reaction, Ivy nuzzled her face against the blonde's hand. Tilly's heart began to beat erratically, the idea of having to see Ivy cry in front of her was alarming. She hated being powerless to alleviate the raven-haired girl's pain.

Emboldened by how Ivy had leaned into her touch, Tilly began to tentatively wrap her arms around the brunette. Ivy closed the distance between them, crashing against the taller girl's chest. One of Ivy's hands clawed at Tilly’s shirt, her head burrowing into a mess of golden curls.

Adjusting her grip, a palm massaging Ivy's lower back, the blonde wanted to verbalize a sympathetic sentiment but the words became lodged in her throat. Tilly chose to simply tighten her hold on the slim girl, threading her fingers through Ivy's short locks, trying to convey some form of sincere affection. Tilly could feel the brunette breathing against her neck, strained and labored as she sobbed.

"I'm here for you, Ivy." Tilly whispered, "Let it all out."

Bottled emotions are bound to implode, and it became evident that Ivy hadn't allowed herself to properly mourn Cecelia. It was nothing to be ashamed about. Tilly would gladly shed tears over her family members if she were fortunate enough to have any. Ivy should be entitled to feel grief, to release all the sadness that weighed heavily on her shoulders.

The sudden smell of wild roses overpowered the blonde’s senses; Tilly had never experienced Ivy's perfume at such a close range. A fragrance that perfectly suited the brunette, resembling a flower with a seemingly prickly exterior, but hiding amongst the thorns, an array of fragile and beautiful petals. It essentially described the person that Ivy appeared to be and who she truly was.

After almost fifteen minutes, Tilly felt the dark-haired girl's body relax in her arms. Ivy's shaking subsided; her thin frame was reaffirming a proper posture. She pulled away from Tilly, the brunette's pupils stayed dilated and the outer rims of her eyes were still swollen, a byproduct of all the crying. Ivy would try to force her figurative mask back on, but now with the cracks showing, Tilly wondered how she had failed to see the depth of the fractures before.

"That was embarrassing." Ivy choked out as she raked a hand through her hair, "My mother would be furious if she saw me acting so emotional."

"Your mother would _furiously_ kill me if she saw how I hugged you." Tilly laughed.

Pressing her luck, Tilly lightly grabbed a hold of the brunette's chin. Using a spare napkin, she dabbed at Ivy's cheek, removing the residual mascara off from her smooth skin. It was like petting a feral cat, Tilly feared that her own audacity would scare Ivy away, but the dark-haired girl didn't resist the blonde's ministrations.

"You smell nice." Ivy cleared her throat, her voice hoarse, "I mean, better than I imagined."

"Oh? You mean that I don't _actually_ reek of garbage." Tilly feigned indignation.

"Well, I certainly didn't expect you to smell this good." Ivy retorted.

"You'd be surprised how easy it is to sneak into a motel suite and use its daily resupplied bathroom." Tilly elaborated as her fingertips lingered on Ivy's jawline.

"That doesn't explain how you smell like a plate of freshly peeled tangerine slices." Ivy blushed as Tilly released her face.

"I'm _honored_ that you have given the origin of my scent so much thought." Tilly jested.

The golden-haired girl's comment elicited a giggle out of Ivy, and the brunette reflected on how facilely Tilly could make her laugh. Even after Ivy had just been bawling inconsolably, Tilly was capable of lifting up her spirits with merely a smile. 

Ivy knew that she might be treading on thin ice, exposing a risky amount of her true self to the blonde. A daring indulgence. It was far too dangerous to present her persona as a complex challenge, especially when Tilly had always been so good at solving impossible puzzles.


	4. Thunderstorms

Chapter 4

Thunderstorms

* * *

 

Everyone who has ever been to Hyperion Heights will inform you about its frequent displays of awful weather. Thunderstorms were a staple of the neighborhood's typical climate. A district situated in a secluded region, it was hardly vibrant and polychromatic. Dark clouds adorned the skies almost every day, a permanent overcast shrouded the sun and constantly caused episodes of intense precipitation.

Finding shelter from the rain was not an easy task for Tilly. She usually appreciated a moderate drizzle during the summer, but with the low temperatures of autumn, the blonde feared succumbing to some feverish affliction. She couldn't afford, in quite the literal connotation, to acquire a weakening illness. Her financial circumstances were dismal at best.

Gusts of air blew through Tilly’s golden curls, sending a shiver across her spine, teeth rattling loudly. Tilly stifled a sneeze, forcing her immune system to persevere. One tempestuous morning was already strenuous to cope with, but it had been raining nonstop for three consecutive days.

The blonde continued trekking along the streets, shoes squeaking against the asphalt pavement. It only took a single instant for the light dribble to transform into a heavy downpour. Tilly trembled, cold and wet. She needed to quickly locate a refuge.

Dodging puddles, hoping a passing car wouldn't splash water on her, the golden-haired clenched the straps of her backpack. She had the habit of stashing her bag inside some remote trashcan for short intervals of time, but that wasn't an option now, due to the periodic torrential rain.

The young woman wanted to get indoors before she developed a severe case of hypothermia. Tilly's shirt was too thin to withstand more water, the drops were already seeping into the permeable fabric. Making a turn around the corner, she entered a small café to evade the storm.

It was a quaint establishment, selling overpriced gourmet coffee and a wide assortment of flaky pastries. Tilly didn't often go to fancy little shops, but a hot beverage would thoroughly quell her shivers. Ordering a few treats, the blonde's eyes scanned around the lounging area for a place to rest. Spotting a familiar brunette sitting alone, Tilly's mouth shifted into a large grin. Fate had brought her back to Ivy. It appeared as if their paths were closely intertwined.

After the barista received the items that she had requested and settled them inside a paper package, Tilly made her way to a particular table. Ivy Belfrey looked as gorgeous as ever, a black blazer over one of her signature form-fitting blouses, accompanied by a matching pair of pants that were excellently tailored and flattered some great curves. She was analyzing a bunch of documents, too engrossed in her task to notice the blonde pulling up a chair.

"Greetings, Miss Ivy Belfrey." Tilly chirped as she sat down in front of the dark-haired girl.

Ivy lifted her head. She scoffed and focused promptly back to the papers laying across the table. A subtle smile manifested itself onto Ivy's face, but she bit her lower lip to maintain a neutral expression.

"Why do you _insist_ on calling me that?" Ivy huffed.

"Because it's your name?" Tilly shrugged with both shoulders.

"Well, at least call me Ivy." Ivy requested, a faint blush appeared on her cheeks.

"So, we are now officially on first name basis?" Tilly teased.

"Yes. One step closer to buying a set of friendship bracelets." Ivy smirked.

Tilly chuckled as she took a sip of her hot chocolate. A pleasant discovery had been made; Ivy was growing comfortable enough around the blonde to make good-humored jokes. The slight thawing of an icicle, Tilly relished miniscule victories. Reaching into her paper bag, Tilly pulled out a churro. The sweet aroma of cinnamon and sugar invaded the atmosphere.

A popular pastry, originated from Spain, churros were fried strips of dough, a simple mixture of flour, water, and salt. Molded into a spiral design, and covered with crispy jagged edges. Crystallized sugar and cinnamon powder would be sprinkled on top, the finalized concoction proved to be as delicious as it was unhealthy.

"Churro?" Tilly beckoned the brunette.

"I don't eat carbs." Ivy declined the offer with a flick of her hand.

"A churro is more like a shot of pure cholesterol."

"That sounds _super_  unhealthy for your arteries."

“It tastes _really_ good.”

“Still not interested.”

"And if you dip it into my hot chocolate, it'll taste even better." Tilly waved the churro in front of Ivy.

Exhaling a breath of resignation, Ivy broke off a piece of the elongated pastry. Tilly pushed her cup closer to the dark-haired girl's hand, urging her to put the hot chocolate to good use. Ivy sighed loudly and dabbed the fried dough morsel in Tilly's beverage.

"Might as well. My mother is going to kill me if I don't complete this paperwork on time." Ivy hung her head in defeat, flinging the piece of churro into her mouth.

A crunchy delectable, if Ivy were being honest with herself, she didn’t regret having tried the churro. Tilly’s suggestion of soaking the piece of crispy bread in chocolate was genius, a true flavor enhancement. Insightful as ever, Tilly shoved another piece of churro onto the brunette’s hand, perceiving that Ivy had been fond of the treat.

"Oh, so that's why you're here." Tilly pointed at the documents, "You don't want her to see you working on this- What is all of _this_ anyways?"

"Permits, project development contracts, and a bunch of documents that I'm not even familiar with." Ivy explained, releasing an exasperated breath, "I'm being overly dramatic, all I need is to take this packet of papers to the Seattle Department of Construction and Inspections."

"Those offices are pretty away far from here. You should head out if you want to beat the long lines of bureaucracy that await you." Tilly warned.

Pushing back her sleeve, the brunette was startled when she glanced at her wristwatch. Ivy gathered all the paperwork, shoved the documents in a folder, and got up on both feet. Fingers curling around the strap of her handbag, Ivy felt conflicted. Beneath her frigid disposition, she truly enjoyed Tilly's presence.

Ivy knew that the blonde's observations on this realm's intricate bureaucratic procedures were right. Government offices could be unbearably inefficient, plagued by large herds of people who all wanted their issues resolved. Victoria had imposed a strict deadline, and failure was never an option.

"You're right." Ivy nodded as she shuffled her feet, "I'm late."

"For a very important date?" Tilly quipped.

A horrified grimace took over Ivy's face. The blonde didn't think that her silly reference had been so inexplicably offensive, but Ivy must not be an avid fan of Disney's _Alice In Wonderland_. Tilly cleared her throat, hoping that the brunette would brush off her disdainful reaction to the corny joke.

"I-I have to go." Ivy glided past the blonde, but she paused at the exit.

The young woman's hand lingered on the door handle, Ivy was clearly having a debate with herself. She turned to look at Tilly, attempting to articulate some kind of statement. Her auburn eyes darted away from the blonde's inquisitive gaze, unintentionally revealing the intensity of the inner turmoil.

"Are you coming or not?" Ivy sputtered out.

Most people would assume that Ivy's question must be either a direct order or the impolite demand of a pretentious snob, but Tilly comprehended the brunette better than everyone else. She was aware of how to decipher Ivy's words. As a self-assured lone wolf, it had been difficult for the dark-haired girl to solicit Tilly's company.

"Of course, just finishing my churro." Tilly replied as she approached the trashcan, depositing her empty cup and the wrinkled paper bag, "Don't want to get any crumbs on your upholstery."

A flicker of relief glimmered across Ivy's auburn irises, and she exhaled a repressed breath. Facial features softening, a smile graced the brunette's lips. Tilly recognized the gesture as Ivy's peculiar way of thanking her for being so understanding. The blonde's skipped a beat, flustered by Ivy's desire to spend more time together.

As both young women walked out into the street, the skies were blue and the sun gleamed brightly. The turbulent storm that had been raging violently when Tilly went inside the cafe must have completely dissipated. Perhaps a persuasive sign from the celestial forces of destiny, but as Tilly cheerfully followed Ivy to her vehicle, it was an encouraging incentive that neither girl required.

* * *

As it was to be expected, the government offices were chaotic and crowded, full of patrons who impatiently waited their turn. Flashing friendly smiles, engaging in amicable conversations, Tilly had been Ivy's amulet of good fortune, charming the clerks into promising the brunette's copious amount of paperwork.

Victoria Belfrey would suffer from a cardiac arrest if she knew that a young vagabond was partially serving as a representative for her company. For the sake of additional irony, Tilly might have been surprisingly helpful. Her earnest composure seemed to complement Ivy's snarky attitude.

Through the entire ordeal, Ivy became mesmerized by how effectively the blonde could interact with individuals. Tilly lacked conventional formalities, but she had a playful demeanor that enchanted everyone who met her.

A virtue that Tilly took for granted. The young woman evidently didn't discern that she exhibit a contagious energy, influencing people to feel at ease around her. Ivy wasn't able to stop analyzing the golden-haired girl, acknowledging the possibility that she might be the only one who had fallen under Tilly's spell.

Thanks to Tilly's unprecedented appeal, Ivy's assignment had been accomplished, with plenty of hours to spare. Not often did she manage to have so much leisure, Victoria Belfrey made sure to give Ivy enough errands to keep the young woman busy for the whole day. There were a few activities that Ivy longed to do in this realm, a couple of relaxing diversions to alleviate her cluttered mind.

Boarding the opulent sedan for the return trip to Hyperion Heights, Ivy didn't even realize that she was staring at her companion until the golden-haired girl grinned cheekily at her. Ivy's face reddened from mortification, but she preserved her sense of coolness. She flicked her ebony tresses back elegantly, reconstructing her nonchalant facade.

"Your silly antics really sped up the process." Ivy gave the blonde her distorted version of a compliment, "I've never had so much time to spare."

"You mean my _charisma_?" Tilly lifted an eyebrow playfully, "And you're welcome."

Head shaking dismissively, Ivy pretended to be annoyed, but her lips were locked in a firm smile. She ignited the vehicle’s engine, and pulled out from the parking lot. Tires grinder against the tarmac surface, emitting a rhythmic hum. The brunette's mind wandered, immersed amongst flippant ruminations.

A part of Ivy wasn’t eager to return to Hyperion Heights just yet, she wanted to concoct some sort of excuse to prolong her leave of absence from the confining neighborhood. Embarking on a brief adventure with Tilly felt liberating, like a short gasp of oxygen after drowning amidst a sea of loneliness, but maybe conveyed in a less melodramatic manner.

A sudden rustling sound drew Ivy's attention to the passenger seat. Tilly was shuffling around inside her backpack, looking for something. She rummaged through each inner pocket, inspected every compartment. The blonde assessed the bag's contents, unable to localize whatever item she sought.

“There it is!” Tilly announced as she procured a tablet that was shaped to resemble an evergreen tree, “I forgot to give this to you earlier.”

The object laid covered in a plastic sheet, impairing the brunette's ability to distinguish its identity. Before Ivy could question what was happening, the blonde had unwrapped the trinket and tied it around the rear-view mirror. Appraising the emerald ornament that now hung inside of Ivy's automobile, Tilly reclined back on her seat, two cerulean irises shimmering with a glint of pride.

"It's a Royal Pine air freshener." Tilly informed the dark-haired girl, "To cover up a new car's odor, the smell that you don't like."

"And you just happened to be carrying one of those around?" Ivy asked.

"Don't be ridiculous. I specifically bought one for your car. I kept it in my backpack, hoping that I'd run into you." Tilly confessed as if I she had developed a perfectly normal plan of action, “We always seem to find our way back to each other.”

"You're unbelievable." Ivy let out a wistful laugh.

The fragrance of pine cones immediately wafted throughout the vehicle, a fresh and hygienic smell, similar to the coniferous forests that reminded Ivy of a much different time. The brunette wouldn't dare confess that she was eternally grateful for the change of scent.

Conserving some semblance of proper decor, Ivy didn’t want to admit just how much Tilly’s gift meant to her. She had to chase away these memories and sentiments, before their enduring impression threatened to consume the raven-haired girl.

"So, what do you want to do with your spare time?" Tilly inquired, an intuitive grin spreading across her face, "Your mother probably isn't expecting you back this early."

"Frankly, that wicked woman couldn't care less if I came back at all." Ivy murmured.

"Her loss." Tilly grazed her fingers on Ivy's hand as the brunette gripped the steering wheel, "Now, think of something that you have wanted to do, but never had the time to do so before."

"There is one thing..." Ivy became pensive.

"What is it?" Tilly inquired.

"When I was little, something bad happened on the ice and... Well, I always wanted to do it again but my mother has forbidden me... It's sort of embarrassing to go by yourself..." Ivy kept trailing off and pausing, "But it's silly, forget about it. It's a pointless activity."

"Silly? Pointless activity? Ice?" Tilly listed the brunette's choice in adjectives, "Do you want to build a snowman?"

"No!" Ivy giggled in spite of herself, "Ice-skating. I can't even remember how to."

"Ah, well." Tilly scratched her cheek sheepishly, "I can teach you."

"I _know_ how to ice-skate." Ivy corrected with indignation, mouth contorting into an adorable pout, "I just can't quite remember how to."

"Then I can _remind_ you." Tilly reiterated, winking at the other girl.

"Are you sure?" Ivy was hesitant, "Your hideous flannel shirt isn't really meant to handle the low temperatures at an ice rink."

"I'll be fine." Tilly chirped, ignoring Ivy's unwarranted insult, "I never get sick."

Accepting the blonde's reassurance, Ivy directed her sight back to the road, concentrating on the traffic signs. The bituminous concrete looked livelier now that she had set off to a more favorable destination. _Ice-skating_. Ivy felt as if she were a child again, reverting to a moment in time when her life was much simpler. Frozen lakes. Snowball fights. Hot chocolate.

Tilly held a captivating sway over Ivy, a formidable magnetism that the brunette was rendered impotent against. Although every fiber in Ivy's being gravitated toward the radiant golden-haired girl, she had to keep her distance.  _Don't be foolish, some stories will never have a happy ending._ Ivy replayed the haunting admonition like a mantra, the ominous warning whispered by a malignant ghost, echoing across her tumultuous thoughts.


	5. Ice-Skates

Chapter 5

Ice-Skates

* * *

 

Located in the city of Shoreline, a few miles away from Seattle, the Highland Ice Arena was an adequate skating rink. Cheerful music reverberated across the spacious facility, drowning out the murmurs of the patrons and the crunchy noise that metal made when it crashed into a frozen surface. The smell of greasy food emitted by the items sold at the concession stand lingered through the atmosphere. Bright, neon lighting glimmered along the walls, accentuating to the festive decor.  
  
Having insisted on renting her own pair of ice-skates, Tilly allowed Ivy to purchase the snacks. The brunette claimed that it would be a fair trade, a hotdog in exchange for Ivy's new air freshener. Tilly couldn't refute the other girl's logic. With loud grumblings, the blonde's stomach had decided that she was unbearably hungry. Wolfing down the meal, it took Tilly only several minutes to finish eating.  
  
After a while, it became evident that Ivy might be stalling as she sat on the bench, taking small bites of her hotdog. Fervently opposed to the consumption of carbohydrates, the dark-haired girl kept tearing off pieces of the bread bun and stuffing them inside a napkin. The typical misconceptions of pretentious girl, the oily sausage was somehow healthier than its starchy companion.

"I thought that you were firmly against eating carbs because they are fattening?" Tilly pointed at the brunette's hotdog.  
  
"Exactly. I'm just eating the wiener part." Ivy explained.  
  
"I honestly don't think that you understand the concept of dieting." Tilly teased.  
  
Ivy gave the blonde a look of sheer irritation, and then resumed chewing her meal at a sluggish pace, jaw grinding each bite thoroughly. Tilly had never witnessed anyone eating a hotdog so slowly. The raven-haired girl wasn't too eager to step out on the icy ground. Ivy's eyebrows were creased in thought.

Any confidence that Ivy had in her ice-skating ability instantly vanished when she entered the arena. Both legs folded, the brunette's left foot bounced up and down, a nervous coping mechanism. Tilly felt guilty for thinking that Ivy's display of social anxiety was extremely adorable.  
  
Sitting next to Ivy on the bench, Tilly took a moment to admire the young woman's features. The manner in which her plump lips curved upward before she swallowed each morsel of food, or how the brunette's fingers kept toying with her napkin. Ivy would always be the prettiest girl that Tilly had even seen, but she was also irresistibly cute when her defensives were lowered.  
  
Tilly spotted a ketchup droplet hanging on the corner of Ivy's mouth. She reached over and cupped the brunette's chin. The unprecedented contact startled Ivy for a second, but then she relaxed against Tilly's palm.

The golden-haired girl wiped away the red sauce stain with her thumb. The blonde's fingers grazed Ivy's skin softly as she lost herself in a pair of auburn eyes. Tilly feared that she had crossed the line in terms of what platonic friends were supposed to do for one another.  
  
"I'm sorry, you had a ketchup stain there." Tilly muttered bashfully, diffusing the tension that had accumulated between her and the raven-haired girl.  
  
"Y-Yes. Thank you." Ivy stammered, her face reddening.  
  
Gaze shifting toward her feet, Ivy began fastening the skates, or at least attempting to. She obviously had no intention of walking onto the rink. Fingers toyed with the straps, Ivy shuffled her foot, tugging up the sock, clearly squandering away the time.

Amused blue eyes lingered on Ivy's every motion, observing as the brunette pretended to struggle with the laces of her footwear. A childish tactic, but Ivy was determined to delay the inevitable.  
  
"Do you need some help with those, Cinderella?" Tilly crouched down to tie Ivy's ice-skates.  
  
Ivy's mouth transformed into an annoyed frown, but nonetheless, she permitted Tilly to help her with the shoe strappings. Ivy's feet felt tense, she was still agitated over her current predicament. Tilly finished securing the buckles of her ice-skates and stood up from off the ground.

Contrary to the rest of the world, the brunette had a potent disdain for Disney's animated film collection. Such idealized versions of complex tales, reducing intricate stories into a meager plots, where villains and heroes had been clearly designated.

"You are the only girl I know who hates everything that has to do with Disney." Tilly chuckled as she extended her hand out to Ivy.  
  
"Sorry for not behaving like the basic bimbos that you're used to dating." Ivy snapped, refusing the blonde's offered limb.  
  
A spontaneous burst of anger, Ivy's mood drastically changed. The blonde was confused, it almost appeared as if Ivy had become  _jealous_. How strange. The brunette's nostrils were flaring up, face flustered with indignation. 

An absurd notion, since the dark-haired girl had explicitly stated that she only felt attracted to men. Why would Ivy look so flabbergasted? Tilly slanted her head, concentrating on comprehending Ivy's enigmatic disposition.  
  
"But well, we aren't dating, and you only like guys, right?" Tilly countered, letting her arm drop.  
  
"Right." Ivy clicked her tongue, narrowing her eyes, "I _only_ like guys." 

A necessary misrepresentation, Ivy had no desire to propagate her own bisexuality, classifications held too much significance in this realm. If Ivy wanted to keep Tilly at a distance, feigning heteronormality would be the best course of action. It was the safest choice.

On wobbly legs, Ivy stumbled toward the arena. At the edge of the entrance, she hesitated for a second before traversing the threshold between the concrete floor and icy surface. Shrugging off the blonde's hands, Ivy rejected the golden-haired girl's endeavors to aid her.

Tilly scratched her head, repressing the urge to laugh at the brunette's endearing bout of stubbornness. It was entertaining, Tilly watched as Ivy flailed around on the rink, resembling a baby horse that didn't know how to walk.

People flew on by, gliding along the ice, swooshing across the thin sheen of frost. An upbeat melody resonated through the establishment, overpowering the boisterous chattering of the patrons. 

Some individuals were relatively good skaters, while others were striving not to fall flat on their faces. Much to her disappointment, Ivy belonged in the second category. Fingers curled around the rail, she was utterly unable to achieve any form of balance.

When Ivy's hold on the metallic cylinder suddenly slipped, she toppled over. Ivy closed her eyes, bracing for impact. Before she hit the ground, an arm latched around the brunette's abdomen, impairing her descent.

Regardless of their petty arguments, Tilly wasn't about to let the young woman to fall. Straightening Ivy upright, the blonde kept both her hands firmly attached to the shorter girl's waist.

Despite the previous squabble with the blonde, Ivy felt grateful for Tilly's assistance. Her arms instinctively coiled themselves over the golden-haired girl's shoulders. Eyelids fluttering open, Ivy lifted her head.

A blush spread across the brunette's cheeks when she realized that Tilly's lips were a mere inches away from her own. It was so tempting to steal a kiss. Pulse quickening, being held by Tilly brought back too many painful memories.

A flood of sensations, washing over Ivy with the fury of an unstoppable tempest. Ardent caresses, intimate strokes, passionate kisses. Intense emotions laced into flashing images that were seered across Ivy's mind.

"Hey, are you okay?" Tilly murmured, her breath becoming visible in the cold atmosphere.

"I-I..." Ivy failed to formulate a coherent sentence.

Tilly's cerulean irises gleamed with concern for Ivy, a sentiment that the brunette wasn't accustomed to receiving, not in a long time. Ivy had spent eight years deprived of these tender gestures, she didn't know how to process them anymore.

Further words were stolen by the press of Tilly's body against hers, the feel of the blonde's strong arms coming around. Ivy's yearning to be held. Tickles travelled up and down the brunette's skin where they touched, uncomfortable heat swelling in her chest that she stifled. Closeness that Ivy wanted no part of, the string of fate trying to chain them together in messy, complicated ways.

Wearing a lopsided smile, Tilly pushed back a stray lock of the brunette's hair behind her ear. Ivy felt her heart beating erratically against her breastbone. For a couple of minutes, neither girl dared to move.

"Ivy?" Tilly whispered.

"Y-Yeah?" Ivy's voice had never sounded so vulnerable, "I'm sorry. I just don't want to fall."

"I won't ever let anything bad happen to you." Tilly declared sincerely.

Tilly had phrased her promise in an oddly expressive fashion. Ivy felt as if the taller girl had been alluding to a more meaningful commitment than simply keeping the brunette from flopping onto the ground. A fruitless sentiment, Ivy was keenly aware that Tilly's pledges would never be true.

"Okay, so hold on to me." Tilly instructed, "Don't look down at your feet."

Her attention solely focused on the brunette, Tilly grabbed a hold of Ivy's elbows and pushed back, creating a gap between them. The dark-haired girl reacted by wrapping her fingers around Tilly's forearms, impressed with the blonde's defined muscles. Ivy shook her head, dispelling any more inappropriate thoughts.

"Okay, so let's work on your balance." Tilly suggested, "Let go of me when you're ready."

"But what if I fall?" Ivy looked genuinely frightened.

"I'll never let you fall." Tilly vowed.

At a tentative pace, Ivy loosened her grasp on the golden-haired girl's arms. She staggered over the frozen surface, her ice-skates screeched. Ivy knew she was going to tumble over, but as guaranteed, Tilly intervened before she collapsed. The blonde's hands held Ivy by the wrists, keeping her stable.

"Hold on, don't move." Tilly warned.

Reeling Ivy closer in, Tilly properly adjusted her dark-haired companion's posture. She released the brunette's arms, maneuvering around Ivy. From behind the smaller girl's back, Tilly kept her hands on Ivy's hips, providing stern support.

"March two steps forward and let your body dip down slightly." Tilly coaxed into Ivy's ear, "Do this until you feel comfortable, then begin picking up one foot as you slide. My hands won't let go of your hips until you're ready."

Forcing her shaky knees to obey Tilly's commands, the brunette managed to stand erect. With the golden-haired girl perched against her back, Ivy became more valiant. She knew that Tilly would be there to prevent her from fumbling down. Trusting another person was a foreign ideology to Ivy, but the blonde had this unexplainable influence over her.

Due to Ivy's incompetence as a skater, it took her more than an hour to successfully glide along the ice rink. Throughout the entire ordeal, Tilly was never impatient, she didn't berate Ivy for her failures or criticize the brunette's inability to master the nuances of the activity. When Ivy made a mistake, the blonde would correct her delicately. Every time that Ivy tripped, she found Tilly's gentle hand there to lift her back up.  
  
Although it took longer than Ivy would like to admit, she eventually learned how to propel herself across the rink. Her pace might have been slow, but the brunette was able to skate without faltering. Spinning. Twirling. _Giggling_. Hours passed, Ivy and Tilly, just two normal girls, no expectations or responsibilities. 

Perfecting a rotation technique, the dark-haired young woman pivoted to face Tilly. Displaying an enthusiastic grin, Ivy basked in the sense of pride that the achievement had given her. Regressing back to a more innocent girl, dimples visible on each cheek.

The blonde smiled back, azure irises twinkling with adoration for Ivy. Forehead creasing, the outer rims of both eyes seemed swollen and puffy. Tilly's facade was peeling off. Her lips were tainted in an alarming shade of purple.

"Do you feel okay?" Ivy trudged toward her companion.  
  
"Y-Yes, I'm fine." Tilly lied, her clenched teeth rattled, "I've just been out in the rain for a few days."  
  
"A _few_ days? Then you're clearly not fine!" Ivy scolded harshly.  
  
"Don't yell." Tilly whined, raising both hands to her ears, "My head hurts."  
  
"Just..." Ivy's expression softened as she surveyed the blonde's pale complexion, "Come here."  
  
Feeling uncharacteristically intrepid, the raven-haired girl placed a hand on Tilly's forehead. Her suspicions were accurate; the blonde's skin felt both clammy and hot. Ivy's palm wandered downward, cupping Tilly's cheek. It was bold move for the brunette, but uncontrollable emotions had always delegated her impulses.  
  
"You're burning up." Ivy informed the golden-haired girl, "You have probably been feeling sick for a long time, but you kept holding it in. Gosh, you are so _careless_."  
  
"Calm down, Ivy." Tilly gave the brunette a half-hearted smirk.

Eyelids kept drooping shut, Tilly felt unable to sustain her fake composure, a fit of coughs overcame the young woman. Ivy clamped a fist on the lapels of Tilly's red flannel shirt, urging the taller girl to lean against her. An arm encircled the Tilly’s waist, Ivy guided the blonde through the crowd of skaters.

Burrowing her face into Ivy's clavicle, Tilly could barely stand. It had been precipitating for at least three consecutive days, combine that with the flimsy material of Tilly's garments, and the results were elementary, the blonde had developed a scorching fever.  
  
"Why did you even agree to coming here?" Ivy led the blonde toward the ice arena's exit.  
  
"Because you wanted to ice-skate." Tilly replied.  
  
"So, now this is _my_ fault?" Ivy huffed, "You could have declined my invitation."  
  
A wry chuckle escaped from Tilly's chapped lips, her body shivered in response. Ivy swung one of the blonde's arms over her shoulders, walking them toward the lounging area. Tilly slumped onto a bench, dizziness and nausea overtook her, she slouched down.

Sniffles, faint gasps, chest heaving, Tilly couldn't alleviate her clogged sinuses. Performing under pressure, Ivy wasted no time in kicking off her own ice-skates and kneeling to untie the other girl's laces.  
  
"I don't think that I'm capable of saying 'no' to you, Ivy." Tilly slurred the sincere confession.  
  
"Hm." Ivy hummed bitterly as she helped the blonde with her shoes, "You can't say 'no' to _Ivy_."  
  
Drowsy from the migraine that thumped inside her skull, Tilly couldn't hear the brunette's ominous comment. The delirious girl was running on fumes, her legs buckled when she made a motion to stand. Ivy propped the blonde up by slithering an arm around her torso.  
  
Tilly's breathing was strained, the symptoms of a severe pulmonary affliction. Ivy didn't want to overreact by taking the blonde to a hospital, after all, no one in any realm had managed to invent the cure for the common cold. Doctors and nurses would be mostly useless.

The dark-haired girl wanted to know if Tilly could be suffering from a more serious condition. Holding onto the blonde, Ivy assumed that a verbal assessment would have to do.

"Can you describe to me how you feel?" Ivy inquired, unsure Tilly was even listening.  
  
Even though Tilly wasn't alert, she remained conscious. The golden-haired girl kept fading in and out of a sedated state, fatigued and drained. Reflexes were enabling Tilly's feet to move on their own accord. She couldn't remember how Ivy had been adept enough to drag her out of the Highland Ice Arena. 

With Ivy leading her across the street, Tilly’s senses had been grossly distorted. The blonde's concept of time was abstracted. Perception hindered by an incessant pounding in her head.  
  
"I feel silly. I might die of hypothermia, all because I was trying to impress a pretty girl." Tilly divulged.  
  
"Are you truly incapable of taking anything seriously?" Ivy sneered, adjusting her grip on the blonde's torso.

"I literally _just_ told you that I was silly." Tilly countered, stumbling into Ivy's sedan.   
  
The brunette eased Tilly onto the passenger chair, demonstrating a gentility which Ivy didn't even know that she possessed. Pulling the seat-belt down, Ivy clasping the bind securely along Tilly's body.

Scurriying around the vehicle, Ivy quickly boarded through the driver's side. The raven-haired girl wasn't sure what she should do now, fiddling anxiously with her keys. Ivy weighed the options, the hospital, an impersonal favor between acquaintances, or her apartment, the dangerous beginnings of a blossoming friendship.   
  
"M-My head hurts." Tilly muttered sleepily, becoming self-aware of the fact that she felt incredibly limp, "Just drop me off at the troll monument."  
  
"Are you out of your mind?" Ivy snapped, "I'm not leaving you under some bridge."  
  
As the blonde resisted the natural urge to sleep, she tried to focus her vision on Ivy. Tilly could barely see the outline of the dark-haired girl, pupils dilated and moist. With the moonlight shining through the window, a glow was reflected onto Ivy's silhouette.

A veneer of luminescence coated Ivy's onyx curls, reflecting a dark hue of sapphire. The brunette looked ethereal. Tilly’s breath hitched, either due to her crippling fever, or Ivy's captivating beauty. Tilly could have sworn that she was in the presence of an enchanting sorceress.  
  
Ivy could perceive that Tilly's respiration had converted into a labored wheezing sound. Her coughing occurred in briefer intervals, while the blonde's sneezes began to increment immensely. Ivy must take Tilly somewhere secure and sheltered, that much was certain.

Trapped in a puzzling situation, the brunette didn't have a multitude of examples to follow. She could only recall her older sister's soothing touches. It was difficult to mimic the behavior of a ghost. She would make an effort for Tilly though.   
  
"You're sweet." Tilly murmured as she rested her head against Ivy’s shoulder, "I'm going to take a tiny nap, okay?"  
  
"Hey, stay awake." Ivy cupped Tilly's face, nudging the blonde.  
  
"Just need to rest..." Tilly groaned as she leaned into Ivy's palm.  
  
"Are you listening? Please, don't fall asleep." Ivy was worried, "Alice..."  
  
With both eyes closed, chest throbbing roughly, a dull ache thrashing against the blonde's head. Tilly was growing weaker, having subdued the fever for as long as she physically could. Sweat beading on her forehead, Tilly's lungs burned after each ragged breathe, desperately seeking out oxygen.

Her mind was hazy, and Ivy's words were hard to distinguish. A warm hand brushed Tilly’s cheek gently, causing the golden-haired girl to smile. The pads of soft fingertips massaged Tilly’s flushed skin, smooth nails tracing the contours of her cheeks with a weird familiarity. 

Murmured pleas, vehemently begging Tilly not to sleep, an order that she didn't feel able to oblige. Tilly, her name. Thoughts were a bit scrambled. _Please, don't fall asleep. Alice_. The consternation in Ivy's voice was the last thing Tilly would recall before everything became engulfed by darkness and shadows.


	6. Dry Bay Leaves

Chapter 6

Dry Bay Leaves

* * *

 

Invading beams of hazy light entered through the poorly closed curtains, shining across the room's inhabitants. The moon loomed over the night sky, glimmering along the clouds, bestowing a silvery glow upon the aerosol masses of frozen droplets. An eerie silence shrouded the residence, and although the loft was located on an upper-level floor, pedestrians could still be heard chattering from sidewalk below, vehicles honking at the distance.  
  
Awakened by an intense pounding against her head, Tilly began to regain consciousness. Her engorged eyelids fluttered open. She was surprised to find herself on top of a soft mattress, safely tucked under a bundle of bedsheets. A nasty migraine pulsated through her skull. The blonde turned to the side, burying her face into a pillow. Any hint of luminosity made every blood vessel in her cranium scream in protest.

Most of Tilly's muscles ached, joints cracking, a stiff skeletal frame. She felt like a deer who had been plowed over by a truck. Sore and fatigued, the blonde was unable to inhale through her nose, the nasal cavities were brimming with mucus and phlegm. She moaned, retinas searing, adorned by red webs of pronounced veins.

"Ugh..." Tilly croaked, her eyelids feeling heavy.  
  
"Wonderful. You're alive." Ivy's voice reverberated against the walls.

An unfathomable occurrence, Ivy Belfrey, huddled against the armrest of a reclining chair, less than a foot away from the bed. Her face lacked any trace of makeup, the brunette's raven curls were messy. Instead of the usual refined and stylish attire, Ivy was wearing an oversized sweater and a pair of loose leggings. Despite her casual appearance, Ivy continued to look amazingly gorgeous, possibly even more so.  
  
"Dressed so casually and you're _still_ the prettiest girl that I've ever met..." Tilly mumbled.  
  
"Those are the first words that you choose to say?" Ivy quirked an eyebrow, biting her lower lip to prevent a treacherous smile from manifesting itself on her face.  
  
"I'd choose those as my _last_ words to say." Tilly tried to give the brunette a smile, but she was too weak.  
  
"You're such a dork." Ivy giggled wistfully, as if she knew something that Tilly didn't.  
  
After the blonde's pupils adjusted to her environment, the pain came flooding back to her body. She felt dizzy and queasy, due to the reaction of abruptly waking up. Her flesh was on fire. Limbs stretching out, Tilly attempted to sit upright on the bed, but she only managed to slump against the headboard. A fit of coughs erupted from her irritated throat.  
  
Ivy took a step forward, gracefully transitioning from the couch to the bed. Sitting against the edge of the mattress, she wrapped an arm around the blonde. Rubbing soothing circles over Tilly's upper back, Ivy alleviated some of the golden-haired girl's tension. Tilly leaned into the brunette, resting her forehead on crook of Ivy's neck. A familiar rose fragrance filled her lungs, and Tilly could have sworn that Ivy's scent was clearing up her congested nostrils. 

Several minutes passed until Tilly's sinuses were finally stabilized. A tentative movement, Ivy pulled back, turning her attention to the nightstand. A glass of water on laid on the surface within reach, ice cubes floated in the tall cup, next to two tablets of aspirin. Ivy untangled herself from Tilly, and shifted to retrieve both items.  
  
"Here." Ivy offered, one hand outstretched with the beverage while her other palm held the white capsules, "Take these, and drink this."  
  
Nodding gratefully, Tilly popped the pills in her mouth. She drank thirstily, the cool fluid streaming down, drenching her throat. A loud grumble, Tilly's stomach roared, starving for food in spite of her current ailment.

Struggling to move, the blonde had already imposed too much on Ivy, she couldn't force the raven-haired girl to procure a meal for her. The compassion that Ivy was exhibiting might be limited, scarce sentiments, Tilly need to preserve some of this kindness.   
  
"Well, thanks for everything and I'm sorry for being such a bother." Tilly's mouth twisted into a grin, "I'll show myself the way out."  
  
"Are you _certifiably_ insane? You can barely move." Ivy scolded, "My mother won't find you here if that's what worries you. She's sleeping in her office tonight, working nonstop on some plans to tear down the community garden."  
  
"No, I'm fine, honest. I'm just a bit hungry." Tilly insisted, placing a hand on her stomach to emphasize the declaration, "I'll be alright, I promise."  
  
As Tilly made a motion to get up, she was stopped by Ivy's palm pressing against her sternum. Pushing Tilly back down with little effort, the brunette established her point. Tilly fell onto the mattress, grunting in frustration, unable to overpower Ivy.

An throbbing chest, limp arms, wobbly legs, an accumulation of physical hindrances. Tilly's exhaustion spread out across her body, radiated from deep within the bones. A conundrum, Tilly couldn't leave, but she had no desire to abuse Ivy's hospitality.  
  
"It's two in the morning and no decent food establishment is open." Ivy informed her.

"I know about five fast food restaurants that are still open." Tilly couldn't muster the strength to fight against Ivy's firm hand.  
  
"I stand by my comment. No _decent_ food establishment is open at this late hour." Ivy quipped with an amused smirk.  
  
A notion dawned upon Tilly, it was a long time past midnight, meaning that Ivy had spent hours watching over her. As the blonde laid on the mattress, she suddenly grew very aware of her surroundings. _Ivy's home_. A sacred threshold, full of the raven-haired girl's belongings and possessions. 

A second realization struck Tilly, another stunning epiphany. Ivy had been allowing Tilly to sleep on her cozy bed, choosing to settle for coiling up against an uncomfortable chair. Touched by Ivy's act of selflessness, the gratitude that she felt toward the brunette was hard to articulate.  
  
Tilly's gaze roamed, surveying the chambers, examining every square foot. Ivy's living quarters may have been spacious, with expensive pieces of furniture at each corner, but in the same fashion as the brunette's vehicle, the atmosphere felt too impersonal. The walls were white, lacking color. The ornaments consisted of about three generic vases.

It didn't suit Ivy's vivacious personality, none of the plain decorations matched the ferocity and splendor of elegant girl's soul. The shelves were mostly barren, no photo frames could be found on any of the racks. Tilly knew how reserved and distant Ivy tried to seem, but she had never imagined that the gorgeous young woman's life was actually so  _hollow_.  
  
"Hey, are you okay?" Ivy shook the blonde's shoulder lightly.  
  
"Yes, I was j-just thinking that..." Tilly noted the genuine concern in Ivy's eyes, "I've overstayed my welcome."  
  
"Nonsense. You're staying here for the night." Ivy persisted, stomping her foot to embellish her behest.  
  
"Be careful, Ivy. It _almost_ sounds like you're worried about my well-being." Tilly teased.  
  
"Don't be a-absurd." Ivy scoffed as she folded her arms, "I just don't want your death weighing heavily on my conscience."  
  
"Admit it, at the very least, you tolerate me." Tilly winked at the dark-haired girl.  
  
The brunette was flustered, failing to ward off the blush that invaded her cheeks. _At the very least, you tolerate me_. Wringing her hands anxiously, Ivy's mouth contorted into a mortified scowl. She glanced away for a brief moment to recompose herself. Ivy hated how the blonde's acute observations had the tendency of embarrassing her.  
  
Before Ivy could verbalize some ingenious counterargument, Tilly began wheezing violently, her gasps for oxygen grew more haggard. With a groan of distress, the blonde's eyelids blinked in aggravation. Tilly didn't want to fall asleep again, she just needed a couple of minutes to revitalize herself.   
  
Ivy's hand brushed against Tilly's forehead, assessing the blonde's condition. The feeling of Ivy's cool fingers on her skin calmed the golden-haired girl down. Wincing with pain, Tilly held her abdomen, assaulted by an odd sensation of nausea.  
  
"You're burning up, and you need proper nourishment." Ivy muttered as she dropped her arm, "I'll make you one of those bowl meals that sick people eat."  
  
"You mean _soup_?" Tilly stared at the brunette with bewilderment.  
  
"Yeah, whatever." Ivy stood up from off the mattress.  
  
"Do you even know how to make soup?" Tilly asked, nervously laughing.  
  
"How hard can it be?" Ivy replied smugly.

Spinning on a single heel, Ivy Belfrey glided out the chambers. She exited through the door, swaying her hips in such a manner that should be deemed illegal. Tilly's heart thrashed, sending a different type of ache into the blonde's abdominal section, creeping down toward her groin.  
  
After Ivy sauntered away, Tilly flopped her head back on top of the pillow, emitting a contemplative sigh. She stared at the now vacant chair, her azure irises sparkled with amazement. All provocative jokes aside, Tilly would never stop wondering how exactly someone as mediocre and wretched as herself had been welcomed into Ivy Belfrey's bedroom.

* * *

The culinary arts were not Ivy's forte, mostly due to the fact that her mother had strict and outdated opinions when it came cooking. _Cooking? That endeavor is reserved for peasants and servants_. Ivy's elder sister, Anastasia, didn't share these elitist views, she self-taught herself how to prepare various kinds of meals, using the instructions found within books. Every time that Ivy contracted a fever, Anastasia would make her some chicken soup.

It was a simple concoction, a recipe that didn't require much skill. Ivy's beloved sibling had frequently made a personalized version of the poultry stew for the little girl. Whenever Ivy felt ill, Anastasia snuck into the kitchen, and after one or two hours, a bowl of steaming chicken soup would be delivered to the younger brunette.

Anastasia, the favorite daughter. As much as Ivy wanted to forget everything about the deceased girl, she suffered from these rare moments of nostalgic weakness. _Come here, I'll teach you how to make chicken soup_. Her sister's voice murmured. A cruel twist of irony, Anastasia had been the only person to ever love Ivy unconditionally.  
  
Reminiscences flooding through Ivy's mind. Sentimental rubbish that held almost no value, but Tilly's current situation was forcing Ivy to remember how to make chicken soup, and in doing so, it brought back memories of Anastasia, accompanied by a thrumming ache. The brunette shook her head, she needed to focus on the task in front of her.

Regardless of where a person came from, the city of Seattle or an enchanted forest, chicken soup had acquired the reputation of being a folk remedy for colds and influenza. The basic components remained the same, chicken breasts, celery, carrots, onions, parsley, oregano, salt, pepper, and turmeric. Although Ivy rarely made any sort of dish, she prided herself in keeping her kitchen well-stocked.  
  
Two chicken breasts and many chunks of vegetables, dumped into a large pot full of water, Ivy turned on the stove. She allowed the food to simmer for an hour or so. _You can stir, here's the ladle._  The young woman was haunted by the image of her sister tending to a kettle. Anastasia would often let Ivy stir the soup, a kind gesture meant to humor the smaller girl's eagerness to assist the older brunette.  
  
When the chicken's meat began to loosen, sliding off from the bones, Ivy knew it was time to take everything out of the pot. She drained the some of used water, an amber substance seeping into the wastepipe. The brunette gathered the poultry slabs, slicing them into rectangular clumps, easily chewable. How domestic. As Ivy chopped the carrots, celery, and onions, she started to feel self-conscious.

The raven-haired girl had a plethora of reasons to stay away from Tilly. It was the best course of action, to avoid one another, and yet, Ivy's heart ignored all these ruminations, yearning to cater to the blonde's needs. Here she stood, making her sister's chicken soup, cutting the components into portions that were easy for Tilly to swallow.  
  
Ivy returned the broth to the pot, adding the minced vegetables and chicken morsels. She sprinkled the stew with salt, pepper, bits of parsley, oregano, and turmeric, stepping aside to retrieve Anastasia's secret ingredient. _Dry bay leaves. Remember to crush them._ The brunette added the herbs, after crushing the brittle blades into a flaky powder. Ivy had memorized all of the instructions, occasionally twirling the wooden spoon. _Let the soup boil_. The last step, a test of Ivy's patience. Her thoughts gravitated to the few pleasant childhood memories that she possessed.  
  
When the soup was ready, Ivy grabbed a ladle. She collected a generous serving of the warm substance and poured it into a bowl. Visible masses of carrots, hunks of poultry, and lettuce wedges floated around the container, swirling amidst a pool of broth, the ripples hypnotized Ivy, engrossing her in a brooding trance.

Ivy raked a hand through her hair, unable to comprehend the meaning behind any of this. Tilly wasn't real, solely a shadow of the person that she used to be, the vessel molded in the shape of the golden-haired girl who broke Ivy's heart. _Alice_. A whisper echoing across the brunette's head. Ivy kept playing with fire, and expecting not to get burned.  
  
Shrugging off those undesirable feelings, Ivy walked out of the kitchen, carrying a food tray. A bowl, a glass of water, napkin, and utensils. Reciting the necessary provisions, the brunette quelled her inner turmoil for now. She maneuvered through the corridor, turning into the bedroom where Tilly was resting. Pushing the door ajar, inside the enclosed space, an endearing sight awaited Ivy.  
  
Propped up against the headboard, Tilly had fallen asleep while sitting on Ivy's cushioned mattress. The blonde was snoring softly, mouth partially agape. Discarded pieces of tissue paper were littered over the floor, a unruly mess. A fond smile erupted across Ivy's face nevertheless, a surge of affection ripped through her heart.   
  
Settling the food tray on the nightstand, Ivy situated herseld against the edge of the bed. An unexpected pang of guilt bubbled within the raven-haired girl's chest. Ivy bowed down slightly, her fingers finding their way through Tilly's messy curls. It was only a matter of time before the charade between them came to a brusque end.

Her relationship with Tilly was an act of pure self-indulgence, a cruel joke that only Ivy knew the punchline of. Second chances had to be earned, not conjured up in a cauldron. More than anything, Ivy wanted this to be _valid_ , instead of just being a tangible illusion, an idealistic wish that her soul craved.  
  
"I-Ivy?" Tilly yawned as she awoken, "Are you okay?"  
  
"Of c-course." Ivy lied, "I was just checking your temperature."  
  
Retracting the intepid hand from Tilly's hair, Ivy cleared her throat, hoping that the blonde would disregard the subtle tremor. She gestured toward the food tray perching on the nightstand, unable to answer Tilly's inquiry sincerely. Rummaging through a pocket, Ivy pulled out a spoon and waved it in front of Tilly.  
  
"Whoa, you made chicken soup from scratch!" Tilly grinned as she snatched the spoon and reached out to retrieve the bowl.  
  
Tilly scooped up some of the steaming broth, blowing on the spoon before discreetly slurping the puddle of amber liquid. Delectable, a divine fusion of flavors and spices. Tilly didn't feel the throbs of hunger until her first mouthful of soup. The blonde realized that either she was famished, or Ivy's cuisine had roused her digestive system.  
  
"This is _actually_ really delicious." Tilly gasped, feigning surprise, nudging the brunette playfully with her elbow.  
  
"Don't sound so shocked!" Ivy placed a hand over her heart in mock indignation, "I might be a spoiled, little rich girl, but even _I_ can follow someone's recipe."  
  
A ravenous appetite was a sign of good health, the first indicator of a successful recuperation. The blonde displayed a livelier complexion, the outer rims of her eyes were no longer swollen. Tilly's fever had dissipated, skin looked a lot less pale, the puffiness around her cheeks began to vanish.

"Who gave you this recipe?" Tilly asked absentmindedly, between intervals of gobbling down the chicken potage, "Your mother?"  
  
"That wicked woman has _never_ taught me how to do anything." Ivy spat bitterly.  
  
A flare of anger flashed across two auburn eyes. The golden-haired girl instantly regretted her question when she saw how crestfallen Ivy had become. A somber expression on the brunette's face, she faltered under the scrutiny of Tilly's direct gaze. Ivy felt idiotic for not sustaining a neutral demeanor.  
  
"Was it Cecelia?" Tilly remembered how much Ivy loved her stepmother.  
  
"No..." Ivy shook her head.  
  
Sensing the brunette's despair, Tilly stayed quiet. She abandoned her spoon inside the bowl, transfering them both over to the food tray resting on the nightstand. The blonde scooted across the mattress, making room for Ivy's body. She patted the empty space beside her. Tilly's cerulean irises made an appeal to Ivy before her vocal cords could.  
  
"Come here." Tilly beckoned gently, "Please."  
  
With a reluctant nod, Ivy kicked off her shoes and slipped under the bedsheets. She laid next to Tilly, her back on the headboard. Ivy knew that the blonde was waiting for an explanation as to why the mood had shifted. Taking a deep breath, the brunette chose her words carefully before she spoke.  
  
"When I was little, my older sister, she taught me how to make the soup." Ivy confessed through downcast eyes, "She would always let me help her."  
  
"Where is she now?" Tilly probed, leaning closer to the brunette.  
  
"She passed away, just like Cecelia. And now, I'm the one who is left behind. I'm the one stuck with a mother who rather sleep on the stiff couch in her office than come home to me." Ivy growled, "I-It isn't fair.  _I'm_ the one who is alone now."  
  
The brunette gritted her teeth, stifling the swelling tears from spilling out. Anger. Resentment. Shame. Countless emotions flickered inside of her, piercing through her soul's fragile cracks. Ivy balled her hands, knuckles turning white. Nails dug into porcelain skin, deep enough to draw blood.  
  
Driven by sheer instinct, Tilly seized control of Ivy's wrists. She knew that the brunette had no intention on further elaborating anything about her sister or the past. It didn't matter, Ivy was entitled to her privacy. The blonde only wished that she could somehow help Ivy resolve the conflict residing within her heart.  
  
Massaging the brunette's fists, Tilly unclenched each curled finger, revealing the jagged cuts on her palms. Tenderly bringing Ivy's hands up to her face, Tilly kissed each wound. The blonde never stopped looking poignantly at Ivy as she pressed her lips against the damaged flesh.  
  
"You are not alone, Ivy." Tilly gave Ivy's fingers a squeeze and then released them from her grasp, "I may not be much, but I'll always be here for you."  
  
Auburn eyes widened. Hearing the conviction in Tilly's proclamation caused Ivy's breath to hitch. Instead of formulating an audible reply, the raven-haired girl threw her arms over Tilly's shoulders. Ivy burrowed her face in the blonde's neck, seeking forgiveness for transgressions that she couldn't reveal.  
  
Repositioning herself, Tilly cradled the smaller girl's body. She tucked Ivy's head under her chin. Tilly wrapped one arm around the brunette's lower back, and buried her fingers through a mane of short tresses. Tilly felt the young woman reeling both hands back, nesting them in between their chests. Ivy wasn't shying away from Tilly's affection this time, and the blonde considered that a measurable amount of progress.  
  
Nuzzling into Tilly's torso, Ivy felt the blonde's heart beating beneath her ear. A rhythmic thumping, serene and comforting. Much to Ivy's dismay, excluding the golden-haired girl, her sister might have been the last person to embrace her. It seemed fitting, just like Anastasia was claimed as their mother's most beloved treasure, Tilly belonged to someone else. Ivy had the habit of finding solace in people who would never be hers.

Perceiving that Ivy didn't want to speak anymore, Tilly decided to comb her fingers through the young woman's ebony curls. She hummed a pleasant tune into Ivy's ear. The brunette began to relax, slumping against Tilly's chest. She could feel Ivy's respiration, puffs of air that tickled the blonde's skin. When the gentle breathing steadied, Tilly deduced that Ivy had fallen asleep.  
  
Lifting the bedsheets, Tilly draped the velvety cloth over both of them. Egyptian cotton, a silky material, costly and overpriced. Tilly sunk into the pillow, lowering Ivy down alongside her, slowly and cautiously, unwilling to disturb the slumbering brunette. Sighing to herself, Tilly kept petting the smaller girl's locks. Her fingers caressed each strand of raven hair with utmost care.

Emboldened by an uncontrollable affection for Ivy, the blonde pressed a chaste kiss against troubled young woman's head. The lamp on the nightstand chased away the shadows, and Tilly decided that she would rather not be encircled by darkness during this taxing night. Ivy deserved to rest beneath a fluorescent shimmer. Glaring up at the ceiling, Tilly wondered if families always caused so much pain. In any case, she deeply hoped that Ivy's dreams brought her at least some fleeting form of peace.


	7. Bright Green Eyes

Chapter 7

Bright Green Eyes

* * *

 

Fields of flowers surrounded the meadow, clusters with violets and petunias. The lively purple and magenta petals were hard to forget. A forest of majestic pine trees was located near a gentle river, whose waters could often be heard trickling across a ledge of coarse stones. The clear, radiant skies seemed to be colored in hues of cerulean and indigo, adorned by an array of fluffy, white clouds. A distant land where magic reigned, dreams became reality, and good always triumphed over evil.  
  
In the midst of such marvelous scenery, stood a prosperous house, an impressive estate full of stables and spacious courtyards. A centered tower, supported with concrete walls and sturdy pillars, cheerful servants tending to mundane chores. Hummingbirds and sparrows splashed around in the fountain that decorated the terrace, a wondrous sight to behold. A wealthy bastion, owned by a talented and successful tailor.  
  
Marcus Tremaine lived in this charming manor with a dotting wife Cecelia, his children, Anastasia and Drizella, and her daughter, Ella. All of the girls were accustomed to having a stepparent, content, happy, treasured by a father and mother, even if the same blood didn't course through their veins. Jagged, tattered pieces, pressing back together into chaotic mosaic, woven threads tied to become a complete family, as cozy and pleasant as a mismatched quilt.  
  
Several years before, the dark-haired man had suffered a great loss. Rapunzel, the beloved mother of Anastasia and Drizella, she seemingly died during a treacherous expedition through the forest. Marcus claimed that he found his golden-haired wife's cloak, the garment was battered and dirtied. The only remnants of Rapunzel, a clear indication that some wild beast must have surely devoured the defenseless woman. A tragic event, but Marcus could not dwell on the past, he had to live in the present.  
  
Although Drizella had been very young when her birth mother vanished, Anastasia's recollections kept the woman's spirit alive in her mind. Anastasia never let go of the hope that Rapunzel might have somehow managed to survived. As the time passed, the space that Rapunzel left inside of Drizella's heart became filled with another maternal figure. Cecelia raised Drizella as her own, doting on all three girls, offering an unconditional love that every child craved.

Nevertheless, Drizella humored her sister, listening along to anecdotes of a time that should have been forgotten. After all, memories are shaped by a person's perception of events, and Drizella didn't care much for venerating Rapunzel's ghost. The woman had never treated Drizella with the same warmth and affection that she would bestow onto Anastasia. A favoritism that the older girl could not remember, and yet, the feeling was impossible for Drizella to erase.  
  
Anastasia, with straight, thin locks that were colored a light shade of brown; she had inherited most of Rapunzel's facial features. Armed with an infallible sense of optimism, Anastasia never stopped looking toward the horizon. She believed in fairytales, and advocated vehemently for the notion of true love. On the other hand, Drizella's wavy ebony curls resembled more of Marcus Tremaine's own raven hair, sharing the same analytical mind as her father. Drizella enjoyed her elder sister's stories, but never believed in them entirely. There was one particular aspect that bothered her, a twisted conundrum with no clear resolution. How could Marcus love Cecelia if he had loved Rapunzel? Could a person have _two_ true loves?  
  
Drizella decided to voice her concerns during one of the picturesque outdoor picnics that Anastasia was fond of.

It was a perfect opportunity, Ella had refrained from joining them, favoring to partake in horseback-riding lessons with Marcus and Cecelia. It would be awkward to ask about the complexities of their father's love for Ella's mother with the dark-haired girl present.   
  
Hiking down a winding path outlined by rows of daffodils and daisies, Anastasia carried a basket in one arm, and with the other, she held her little sister's hand. Both girls trekked all the way up to the nearest side of the riverbank. After finding a shaded clearing near a few evergreen trees, Anastasia started to unpack their provisions. She pulled out a blanket, spreading the garment next to the closest trunk.  
  
"Ana?" Drizella broke the comfortable silence between them.  
  
"Hm?" Anastasia's eyes remained focused on the ground.  
  
The older girl lowered herself on top of the blanket, arranging the treats that the servants had prepared for them. She stacked all the finger sandwiches on three plates, categorized by their respective components; peanut-butter, orange marmalade, and ham with cheese. Knowing that Drizella was a messy eater, Anastasia began rummaging the basket for napkins.  
  
"I sort of..." Drizella took a moment to rephrase her question, "I've been wondering, who was Father's one true love?"

Amber eyes shifted their gaze to focus on Drizella. With a pensive sigh, Anastasia patted the space next to her, beckoning her sister to sit. Complying with the older girl's wishes, the brunette flounced right beside Anastasia.  
  
"I guess that Father had two true loves." Anastasia stated simply, "Our mother, and then Cecelia."  
  
"Is that even possible?" Drizella asked, "How would you choose between them?"  
  
The brown-haired girl didn't seem too fazed about the bewildering scenario, turning her attention back to their assortment of snacks. She gave Drizella a peanut-butter sandwich, wrapped in a napkin for good measure. Anastasia's mouth contorted into a loving smile as she addressed her sister once more.  
  
"You'll always love one of them more." Anastasia replied, picking up an orange marmalade sandwich for herself, "Just like how you love peanut-butter more than you love ham and cheese."  
  
"Oh." Converted in terms of food, Drizella thought that Anastasia's analogy made perfect sense.  
  
Biting into her sandwich, Anastasia assumed that her response had satisfied Drizella. A tranquil silence fell between them; the sound of the running river provided a calming ambience as both girls enjoyed their meal.  
  
Drizella analyzed her sister's wise words. It was apparent that Anastasia had reflected a lot on the concept of true love. A new inquiry invaded the younger brunette's mind, one that caused a mischievous grin to manifest on her face.   
  
"Have you thought about _your_ one true love often?" Drizella teased.  
  
"Well, I don't know..." Anastasia paused for a second to swallow.  
  
"Come on, Ana!" Drizella giggled at her sister's modest behavior, "You seriously haven't imagined how your predestined boy might look like?"  
  
"Or predestined _girl_." Anastasia quipped, her face flushing red.  
  
"Wait, what?" Drizella tilted her head in contemplation, "It can be a girl?"  
  
"It's been known to happen." Anastasia attempted to shrug nonchalantly, wiping her mouth with a napkin, "And I might have given _that_  possibility a thought or two."  
  
Judging from the blush spreading across Anastasia's cheeks to her ears, the older brunette had speculated frequently about being tied by fate to a girl instead of a boy. Drizella didn't know that your true love could be someone of the same gender as you, but she was thoroughly intrigued by the idea.  
  
"Well, what do you want _her_ to be like?" Drizella nudged her sister playfully.  
  
"U-Uh..." Anastasia stammered, "Kind, compassionate, adventurous, daring..."  
  
Avoiding her smaller sibling's curious stare, Anastasia began toying with a loose strand of her hair, nervously fidgeting with the thin lock. Drizella had never witnessed her older sister acting in this manner. Anastasia's self-assured demeanor had been swapped with an uncharacteristically anxious disposition.  
  
"It would be cute if she has dimples, when she smiles." Anastasia muttered.  
  
"Oh, and a pair of blue eyes?" Drizella suggested a little too eagerly.  
  
"I'd prefer green." Anastasia smirked, regaining her confidence, “A pair of bright green eyes.”  
  
"Blue is so much gooder."  
  
"You mean, green is so much _better_."   
  
Instead of conceiving a mature rebuttal, Drizella stuck her tongue out childishly at her sister. Anastasia responded by wrapping her arms around the smaller brunette and pulling her close. Both girls giggled as the elder brunette began tickling her younger sibling, their joyous laughter echoed through the woods.  
  
A frivolous debate, green or blue, it was solely a matter of personal opinion, a silly squabble over their distinct preference when it came to appraising eye color.

Blissfully unaware of what the future had in store for them, the younger brunette was thankful to have shared a couple of meaningful experiences with Anastasia. Come what may, Drizella would often revisit these light-hearted moments when she felt lost amidst a sea of darkness. 

* * *

Golden rays pierced through the window's thin curtains, futile to prevent the sun from announcing the arrival of the morning. The beams were filtered by the sapphire drapes, illuminating the apartment with an ethereal glow. A magical atmosphere, different shades of blue shimmered onto the walls. Birds were chirping from the trees outside the window, greeting the start of a new day with a cheerful tune. 

A pair of blue eyes blinked open, momentarily blinded by the light. The events from the night before slowly returned to the surface of the blonde’s mind. Tilly felt a warm pressure against her neck. She looked down and saw a messy bundle of dark curls sprayed across her chest. An arm was firmly wrapped around the blonde's stomach.

Tilly couldn't stop herself from smiling like a lovestruck idiot, processing the realization that Ivy Belfrey was fond of cuddling in bed.   
  
"A-Alice..." Ivy mumbled groggily, "I'm sorry... Don't leave..."  
  
Scrunching her nose in thought, Tilly wondered who 'Alice' might be. She couldn't recall Ivy mentioning her sister's name last night, so that had to be it. Alice, the brunette's deceased sibling. A pang of sorrow struck Tilly's heart, saddened by the conclusion that Ivy was calling out for Alice in her sleep.

The blonde began petting Ivy's hair, marveling at how tender the young woman looked as she slept. It was quite a sight to behold; Ivy's haughty attitude had been replaced with a gentle innocence.  
  
Tilly turned over on her side, elbow propped up with one arm, admiring the view. With her free hand, she let her fingers trail over Ivy's jawline, committing every inch of the brunette's face to memory. A few blemishes in the lower part of the dark-haired girl's left cheek became Tilly's area of interest. The freckles were adorable, contrasting sprinkles on Ivy's porcelain skin. The blonde thought it was a shame that the young woman always covered most of these endearing specks with insipid cosmetics.  
  
Beneath Tilly's wandering hands, Ivy stirred, groaning as the tips of the blonde's nails brushed across her chin. Instead of flinching away from Tilly's touch, Ivy snuggled closer. An adorable snore blew out of her parted lips. 

"Hm." Ivy nuzzled against Tilly's collarbone.  
  
A stupendous idea suddenly occurred to Tilly. She slowly shimmied out of Ivy's embrace, careful as to not wake the slumbering princess. The blonde hopped off from the mattress, landing on the floor with steady legs. Ivy had obviously done a magnificent job at nursing Tilly back to health, she felt completely recuperated.  
  
From the corner of her eye, Tilly spotted her backpack resting on a wardrobe. She quietly walked to her bag, scrambling through its contents. Tilly found her bottle of prescribed medication, popping two pills into her mouth. With the morning routine completed, she retrieved a spare shirt. Having changed into some clean apparel, the blonde made her way out of the bedroom. Stumbling through the hallways, Tilly located the kitchen at the exit of a corridor.

It was an immense compartment, with more cabinets than Tilly could count. All the appliances were encased in stainless steel covers, giving the area a futuristic appearance.

The sink had three faucets, which didn't seem to get much use since a deluxe dishwasher was nearby. After making a wolf-whistle in appreciation, Tilly sauntered toward the refrigerator.

The interior was full of food, carrying more provisions than expected for someone who vowed never to eat carbohydrates. The blonde pulled out an egg carton, a bottle of milk, and a slab of butter, placing them next to the stove.  
  
Rummaging through the cupboards, Tilly found a sack of flour, a flask of cooking oil, a jar of sugar, a salt shaker, container of cinnamon, and a case with baking soda. A lower cabinet held the required equipment; a frying pan, a large bowl, a spatula, and a whisk. An upper shelf had a set of plates and glasses. She found eating utensils in a drawer next to the dishwasher.

With all the ingredients and tools assembled, Tilly pulled up her sleeves and got to work. Cracking eggs into a bowl, adding flour and sugar, a pinch of salt, a dash of baking soda and cinnamon. Whisking in some milk, a drop of cooking oil, a bit of butter, and dumping the mixturr into the skillet. Tilly darted all over the kitchen, humming to herself, flipping the pancakes, serving coffee. Although she lacked a captivated audience, her showmanship was on point.   
  
After fifteen minutes, almost everything had been prepared. Throwing all the soiled houseware in the dishwasher, Tilly whistled a gleeful tune to herself. The dining room was a short distance away.

Pouring orange juice from a pitcher into the glasses, the meal was ready. She headed back to the kitchen for napkins.  
  
"So, do you make breakfast to every girl that you sleep with?"   
  
A playful grin adorning her face, Ivy cleared her throat to inform Tilly of her presence. The brunette's arms were crossed as she slumped against the refrigerator.  
  
"Good morning to you too." Tilly spun around to face Ivy.

Gracing the raven-haired girl with a chivalrous bow, she gestured toward the adjoined dining room. A scrumptious aroma was spreading through the apartment.  
  
"Right this way, Miss Ivy Belfrey." Tilly led the brunette toward the lounging area, "And just for the record, I've never slept with a girl as pretty as you."  
  
"You're ridiculous." Ivy blushed, but obliged the blonde by following her.  
  
Tilly pulled out a chair for Ivy, signaling her to sit down. The brunette complied with the command, amused by her golden-haired companion's silly antics. Ivy inspected the presentation before her.  
  
Twin glasses of orange juice, matching mugs of freshly brewed coffee. A container of butter, a jar of orange preserves, a bottle of maple syrup, condiments adorned the center of the table, adequate utensils near each dish. Breakfast was served.    
  
With a smug grin, Tilly slid a plate in front of the brunette. A stack of pancakes, topped with two round slices of banana and a purposefully placed strip of bacon. It was a smiley face. The most ridiculous gesture that anyone had ever done for Ivy, she couldn't repress the girlish giggle that slipped out of her lips.  
  
"You know that I don't eat carbs." Ivy challenged the blonde with a smirk.  
  
"These are pancakes, not carbs." Tilly claimed, "And they are super happy to see you."  
  
"Well, I wouldn't want to upset the pancakes by not eating them." Ivy played along.  
  
Knife and fork in her hand, the brunette carved into her pancakes, slashing off a small portion. Taking her first bite of the festive meal, Ivy was surprised to discover that Tilly's cooking tasted sublime. A velvety texture, combined with just the right amount of sweetness. The dark-haired washed down her food with a sip from coffee mug.  
  
"So, do you like them?" Tilly asked, with a teasing glint in her eye indicating that she already knew the answer to her question.  
  
Ivy nodded as she wiped her mouth with a napkin. There was a time when the brunette would have devoured the pancakes in an instant, but she had long since grown out of her messy eating habits.   
  
"The pancakes are quite edible." Ivy chimed, faking disinterest as she resumed eating.  
  
"I'm glad that you _do_ like them." Tilly beamed, translating Ivy's unenthusiastic remark into a compliment.  
  
As both young women consumed their breakfast meals, a pleasant lull fell upon the dining room. Two wandering set of eyes often caught one another between a stolen glance. Ivy and Tilly had many thoughts running through their heads, sentiments that neither girl was able to verbalize with definite precision. To negate the risk of disturbing their peaceful complacency, they both decided that some things were better left unsaid.


	8. Miracles

Chapter 8

Miracles

* * *

 

Miracles are often just benign events that rational people consider statistically unlikely or contrary to the laws of nature. When Rapunzel appeared right after Anastasia and Drizella had been lighting floating lanterns and tossing them into the sky, everyone thought that a miracle had happened, a joyous blessing to reward the Tremaine family for their unwavering faith. Defying all expectations, the golden-haired woman was alive, and she had found her way back home.  
  
Although Rapunzel's reappearance could be seen as a supernatural phenomenon, Drizella hardly revered the occurrence as wondrous. Her mother was essentially a stranger. The years away had made Rapunzel cold and bitter, she only cared about Anastasia and Marcus, her youngest daughter was nothing but an unwanted inconvenience. To make matters worse, a little while after the precocious woman had returned to their lives, Cecelia vanished from the estate without giving anyone an explanation.  
  
Drizella was devastated, almost as much as Ella, her stepsister. Cecelia's daughter was left in a state of bewilderment. Neither girl could have imagined why the kind woman had left without so much as a word. To compensate for her mother's departure, Marcus began dotting over Ella, a compassionate gesture that neglected Drizella's own loneliness. Anastasia was Rapunzel's sole concern, resulting in the younger brunette being cast aside by both of her parents.  
  
It was disheartening, to feel like an outcast in your house, but Drizella knew that Rapunzel's blue eyes never lit up for her as they did for Anastasia. The animosity kept growing, building up in its intensity. Drizella's mother would never love her, and she found it difficult to abstain from resenting Anastasia for being Rapunzel's favorite child.   
  
Seeking solace from her troubles, Drizella would spend most of her time in the manor's library, curled up on a sofa chair. Reading provided a mental escape, even if only for a brief moment. A spacious compartment, the shelves were filled with novels, a variety of genres and different authors.  
  
Scanning their spines, Drizella plucked out a different novel during each visit to the library. She would flip through them, their words sparked thoughts, and the brunette scrunched up her nose when confronted with a plot twist. By the end of her session, a serene look of satisfaction formed on Drizella's face as she closed a finished book.   
  
"Drizella!"  
  
Anastasia's voice echoed through the library, prompting Drizella to turn around and glance at her sister. She stood up from the sofa, patting down the wrinkles on her dress. The brunette was so engrossed in the novel that she must have lost track of time. Drizella assumed that Anastasia had been sent to fetch her. It was unlikely that the older girl had come at her own accord.  
  
"You've been spending quite a lot of time here lately." Anastasia approached her sister with a gentle smile, "Would you care to join mother and I for some tea and cookies?"  
  
Adverting her elder sibling's worried gaze, Drizella shook her head. She hopped back on the sofa, cuddling into one of the armrests. Sensing a dip on the cushion, the younger girl felt that Anastasia had sat beside her without uttering a word. Drizella turned away, embarrassed by her own insecurities.  
  
"What's the matter, Drizella?" Anastasia murmured softly.  
  
Shifting closer and reaching out, Anastasia wrapped an arm around Drizella's shoulders, giving the smaller girl a soft hug. Her younger sister was clearly upset over something, but she couldn't decipher what might be wrong.   
  
"I-I..." Drizella's voice trembled, "Mother and Father don't love me..."  
  
"That's preposterous, they love _all_ of us equally." Anastasia insisted.  
  
"No!" Drizella shrugged off Anastasia's arm and spun around to look at her, "Father spends all his time with Ella, and Mother only wants to be with you!"  
  
"That's not..." Anastasia's mouth twisted into a grimace as she avoided Drizella's intense glare.  
  
"Look me in the eye and tell me that it's not true then." Drizella challenged.

Anastasia could not comply with her sister's request. She noticed how their father had been devoting himself to Ella, the dark-haired girl who reminded the broken-hearted man so much of Cecelia, the woman that he could never forget. It was unfortunate that his coping mechanism had resulted in Drizella feeling underappreciated.  
  
Rapunzel was a different problem; she simply did not want to interact with Drizella. A ridiculous case of jealousy, the young girl had preferred the violin that Cecelia had gifted her over their mother's present. Rapunzel didn't seem to care about mending her relationship with Drizella, behaving as if the brunette was a nuisance. Anastasia did her best to diffuse the tension, but it seemed that Drizella's tolerance had reached a breaking point.  
  
"See? I _am_ right." Drizella had hoped that Anastasia would at least try to rebut her claims, "No one loves me."  
  
Slouching forward, Drizella lowered her head. Auburn eyes glittered with unshed tears, the young girl clenched her jaw. Her throat felt constricted, but she refused to weep in front of Anastasia. A warm hand brushed against Drizella's cheeks, gentle knuckles pressing under the brunette's chin.   
  
Anastasia was nudging Drizella, beckoning the vulnerable girl to look up at her. When her sister relented, she moved to grab a hold of Drizella's hands. Her thumbs made soothing circles around the younger brunette's palms, a tender caress that alleviated Drizella's urge to cry.  
  
"Drizella..." Anastasia cooed, "Do you want to know a secret?"  
  
With a tentative nod, Drizella permitted the taller girl's arms to snake around her. Anastasia adjusted her position on the couch, allowing Drizella to slump against her. Thin fingers buried themselves into a bundle of raven curls.  
  
"I love you." Anastasia declared, "I love _you_  over everyone else."  
  
Shaking her head in disbelief, Drizella knew that Anastasia was lying to make her feel better. She tried to struggle against her older sister's hold, but Anastasia wasn't budging. Drizella had never realized that the brown-haired girl was much stronger than her.  
  
"Drizella, it's the truth." Anastasia stated firmly, "I love you more than I love Ella, more than I love Father, even more than I love Mother."  
  
"R-Really?" Drizella sniffled, "Do you mean it?"  
  
"Yes."   
  
"You love me more than anyone?"  
  
"More than _anything_."  
  
"More than chocolate?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"More than pistachios?" Drizella's mood had improved.  
  
"Now, that's just mean." Anastasia teased, "You can't make me choose between you and _pistachios_."  
  
"Okay, okay." Drizella giggled, burrowing her face into the crook of Anastasia's neck.  
  
"I love you, Drizella." Anastasia placed a kiss on her sister's head, "And as long as I am breathing, I'll always love you."  
  
Tightening her grip on the younger girl, Anastasia felt Drizella smile against her collarbone. She stroked her sister's hair, relieved by the fact that Drizella felt better, serenading the brunette with a cheerful hum.   
  
A novel discarded on the floor drew Anastasia's attention away. She stretched to reach the spine, wondering why Drizella had left the book on the ground. Reading the title, _Romeo & Juliet_, Anastasia realized that it was a bit too complicated for Drizella’s level of literary comprehension. William Shakespeare, the author of the play, had the habit of wording his work with a confusing version of the English language.  
  
"How about we forget about Mother's tea party and I read this to you instead?" Anastasia suggested.  
  
Drizella pulled back to look at the book. Her face lit up, head bobbing up and down with enthusiasm. Anastasia grinned, opening her arms up to embrace the small brunette once more.  
  
"I'd like that." Drizella nuzzled against her older sister's side.  
  
"Well, here goes." Anastasia flipped to the book's first page, "Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona, where we lay our scene. From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean..."

With her head on top of Anastasia's chest, Drizella could feel the brunette's heart thump under her ear. The words recited that day were long forgotten, but she would always remembered her elder sister's melodic voice, the calming manner in which Anastasia toyed with her ebony tresses, the accurate pronunciations of each outdated phrase. True to the foreboding promise, Anastasia had loved Drizella until her very last breath.

* * *

The swishing sound of the washing machine reverberated through the laundry room. Rotating garments became indistinguishable through the round glass, the barrel compartment twirled quickly. A buzzing vibration indicated that the process was coming to an end, water and detergent had finished sanitizing the clothes.   
  
Ivy leaned against the doorway after transferring the rinsed garments into the drying machine. She had managed to convince Tilly to take a shower while her clothes were being washed. Ivy didn't know why she had offered to clean the blonde's clothing, but the dark-haired girl just wanted any excuse for Tilly to stay.  
  
It was revolting, for Ivy to be so concerned for someone as inconsequential as Tilly. She couldn't even pretend that the blonde was a pawn in her schemes, because there were absolutely no fringe benefits to maintaining an amicable relationship with the blue-eyed girl. Ivy massaged the front of her head, this period of self-indulgence with Tilly was bound to result in unforeseen complications.  
  
A screeching beep announced the drying machine's success. Ivy gathered all the clothing, straightening the wrinkles the best that she could. It wasn't as if the denim jeans, the black undershirt, or the red flannel blouse, often looked better than they did now. Holding the items to her chest, Ivy headed toward the bathroom.   
  
Knocking three times on the door, she heard no answer, the shower faucet was on. The brunette presumed that her guest needed more time. She planned on dropping off the clothes by the sink as Tilly finished her cleansing rituals behind the stall.  
  
Ivy snuck inside at the same exact moment that Tilly slid the shower curtain to the side. The blonde had a towel wrapped below the waist, her upper body was fully on display before a pair of widening brown irises. Ivy didn't mean to stare blatantly, but it was difficult to pry her vision away. Tilly's bare chest glistened from the residual water, droplets glided across her toned abdomen.  
  
"Are you going to pull up your towel anytime soon?" Ivy snapped, her face blushing bright red.  
  
"Oh, right." Tilly smiled sheepishly, readjusting the cotton sheet of fabric to cover her chest, "Sorry about that."  
  
Ivy forced her gaze away from the taller girl, a mortified scowl decorating her features. Tilly rustled her wet hair with one hand, flicking the golden curls back. Ivy would never acknowledge that she was profusely attracted to the blonde's scruffy appearance.  
  
"I'll leave these here." Ivy placed Tilly's clothes on the sink, "And I insist that you take one of my jackets."  
  
"Nah, I'll have to pass." Tilly declined politely, "You've done too much for me as it is. There's no way I'm accepting a designer brand blazer from you, and frankly, it isn't quite my style."  
  
"Fine, then let me buy you one." Ivy folded her arms to emphasize her authority.  
  
"I am not accepting anymore charity." Tilly shrugged.   
  
"And I am not going to spend every day worrying that you might catch pneumonia!" Ivy huffed angrily.   
  
Tilly was taken aback by the conviction reflected in Ivy's eyes. The dark-haired girl was truly concerned about her. Even so, accepting free gifts went against Tilly's sense of pride. She tilted her head to the side, pondering on what sort of compromise would satisfy Ivy.  
  
"Fine. You can buy me a jacket, of my choosing." Tilly relented, beaming widely at Ivy, "But you have to let me do something for you."

"Do s-something for me?" Ivy stammered nervously.  
  
With Tilly only wearing a towel, the brunette's heart pounded against her breastbone. Between the lingering steam from the shower and Tilly's state of undress, Ivy felt her cheeks burning up. By some extraordinary feat of willpower, her facial muscles succeeded in maintaining a neutral expression.

"Hello? Ivy?" Tilly waved her hand in front of Ivy's face, "Do we have a deal?"  
  
"It's a deal." Ivy muttered begrudgingly, "Tomorrow, at three in the afternoon, I'll pick you up at the Aurora Bridge."  
  
"Yep. It's a _date_." Tilly winked suggestively.  
  
Scoffing with irritation, Ivy spun around on her heels and darted out of the bathroom. A sense of satisfaction brimmed in Tilly's chest, perceiving that Ivy had been flustered by her partial nudity. The blonde knew that it would be ungracious to gloat, but she just couldn't stop her mouth from twisting itself into a smug grin.


	9. Lavender Roses

Chapter 9

Lavender Roses

* * *

 

Snow covered the fields, a thick white coating of ice that spanned across the entire landscape. Evergreen trees were adorned with frost, an ivory powder that gave the branches a bluish complexion. Winter had announced its early arrival with magnificent flair.  
  
Gazing downward from high up in the sky, the sun was powerless to diffuse the cold temperatures. The forest stood eerily quiet; most of the fauna had scattered out to find a more hospitable habitat. Rivers and lakes were frozen, a sheet of crystallized ice rested on top of their surfaces.  
  
Dawn had arrived to the Tremaine Manor; rays of light illuminated a cluster of icicles that hung from the rooftop. With all the residents of the household sound asleep, Drizella crept through the corridors unnoticed.

Walking down the end of a hallway, Drizella was as stealthy as a thief. She pushed the door of Anastasia's bedroom ajar, performing the action slow enough to avoid making the creaking sound that the hinges were known for. The younger brunette slipped into her sister's living quarters, shuffling tentatively toward the edge of Anastasia's mattress.  
  
"Ana!" Drizella whispered into Anastasia's ear, "Wake up!"  
  
Anastasia pulled a pillow over her face, trying to block out her little sister's voice. She moaned into the cushion, burying herself into the mattress. For as much as the brown-haired girl loved Drizella, she was still too tired to face the cold morning.  
  
"Ana..." Drizella lifted the bedsheets and pounced on top of Anastasia, "I know that you can hear me!"  
  
Her mouth contorting into a playful smile, Anastasia flipped them over, pinning Drizella's body under her own. She wrapped her fingers around the younger girl's wrists, effectively impeding the brunette's movements. Drizella erupted into a fit of giggles when her elder sister began tickling her mercilessly.  
  
"Stop, please! I'm sorry!" Drizella's laughter resonated through the bedroom, "I'm sorry, I surrender!"  
  
"Alright, alright." Anastasia placed a soft kiss on Drizella's forehead, "I forgive you."  
  
Flopping down with her back on the mattress, Anastasia laid beside her sister, staring at the ceiling, her amber eyes fluttering close. Arm bended at the elbow,  Drizella propped herself up. She turned to her side, poking the older girl in the cheeks.  
  
"Ana..." Drizella whimpered, "Let's go build a snowman."  
  
"May we wait until after breakfast?" Anastasia sighed, "I'm still a bit groggy."  
  
"Of course!" Drizella grinned, "And we have to invite Ella. She's really good at decorating snowmen."  
  
"Yes. We'll make it an affair for the entire family." Anastasia nodded eagerly before being interrupted by a yawn.  
  
Draping an arm around Anastasia's stomach, the brunette sighed contently. She snuggled into the older girl's side, listening to Anastasia's heart beat at a steady rate. Soft snores filled the bedroom; Drizella honored her sister's request, allowing Anastasia to sleep for a little while longer. Despite the hazardous weather conditions outside, Drizella truly loved the wintertime. 

* * *

People have been known to enjoy shopping; they consider it a recreational activity. Some folks view the experience as a fun game that requires loitering around a store for hours and evaluating its contents. Other individuals believe that shopping is just a chore, a daunting task where a customer has to browse the available goods presented by retailers before purchasing a suitable choice.  
  
Ivy Belfrey _hated_ shopping.  
  
Maneuvering through the crowds, arguing with clerks at the cash register, trying to find an item worth buying, it was all too much of a hassle for Ivy. The brunette _did_ relish her designer brand clothes and luxurious possessions, but she would rather completely avoid the aggravating endeavors that were involved with obtaining them.  
  
Never one to break a promise, Tilly was allowing Ivy to buy a winter jacket for her, provided that the blonde could choose the specific article of clothing being purchased. Walking around the shopping center in circles, the golden-haired girl kept darting in and out of boutiques without sparing the merchandise a second glance. It was almost as if Tilly wanted to prolong the dreadful process of wandering aimlessly through each store.  
  
Unamused by the blonde's antics, Ivy opted for staring intently at her mobile phone, lost in cyberspace. The brunette was keeping all her affairs in order, sending messages to staff members and ensuring that all of Victoria's needs were met. She became fully engrossed in her handheld device, glancing at Tilly infrequently to check the status of her quest for winter jacket. Ivy would tap her foot and wrinkle nose whenever she spotted Tilly loitering about.

Passing by a small bakery, the indistinguishable scent of fresh coffee and warm pastries contaminated the atmosphere. It was an alluring odor, enough to cause Ivy's stomach to grumble loudly. In her rush to depart from the Belfrey Towers without attracting her mother's attention, she had forgotten to eat lunch.   
  
If her hunger pangs had been overheard, the golden-haired girl made no remark about them. Tilly simply went inside the food shop, slipping through the glass doors. A jingle ran out through the bakery, announcing the arrival of two patrons. The walls of the establishment were fully painted pink and purple, bright colors that gave the facility an amicable appeal to children.   
  
For the most part, the dining area was empty, only a couple of customers sat at the tables alone. A sole attendant stood behind the counter, near the cash register. The middle-aged woman seemed to be the server, wearing a friendly smile, her dark hair poked out through a poorly tied bun.  
  
"Good morning!" The server greeted, "What would you girls like?"  
  
"Two medium-sized cups of hot chocolate, one glazed donut." Tilly turned and nodded at her raven-haired companion, "And one peanut-butter puff pastry."

Ivy was stunned; she didn’t know how the blonde could have possibly figured out that she liked peanut-butter. It was an unnerving notion, the idea that Tilly could read her mind.  
  
"Got it." The older woman chirped.  
  
Complying with Tilly's request, the server poured hot chocolate into two cardboard cups, placing a lid on them after she added a generous amount of sugar. The dark-haired woman retrieved the solicited treats; a donut with clear frosting, and a flaky brown pastry.  
  
Before Ivy could pull out money from her purse, Tilly had already given the kind vendor a crisp, ten-dollar bill. She accepted the two beverage cups and a paper bag. Tilly nudged the brunette with her elbow, signaling that they should sit at the nearest table. Two matching indigo chairs complimented the candy-colored theme of the store.

“Here you go.” Tilly placed the peanut-butter puff pastry near Ivy as she sat down.

"I'm buying next time." Ivy commented, taking her seat in front of Tilly.  
  
"Yeah?" Tilly didn't intend for her reply to sound so smug, "So you want to do this with me _again_?"  
  
Flicking her dark curls back, Ivy refused to grace the blonde with an answer. She sipped her hot chocolate and took tiny nibbles of her peanut-butter treat, hoping that her blush would magically disappear. Nothing was more adorable than the way Ivy's cheeks would redden when she was embarrassed. Tilly couldn't stop herself from smirking like a cat that had been presented with a huge platter of milk.

* * *

Minutes slipped into hours, but Tilly didn't seem to find whatever she was looking for. The raven-haired girl continued to trail behind Tilly. A bored expression remained locked on Ivy's face as she gazed down at her mobile device, wordlessly following Tilly inside a store. The brunette's head shot up when she noticed how the interior smelled like an array of different sweet fragrances. Tilly had entered a flower shop, and Ivy realized that the blonde was _purposely_ wasting time.   
  
The quaint establishment sold no clothing items, it only had rows and rows of floral displays. Magenta petunias, common bluebells, white jasmine, and crimson carnations, all lined up in buckets, ready to be collected by an interested patron. Tilly skipped along the aisles, apparently searching for nothing in particular.

The golden-haired girl chose to hover right beside a selection of multicolored roses. People over the ages have ascribed meaning to the type of roses being gifted. Tilly surveyed a gorgeous arrangement. Red, the unmistakable representation of passion and deep devotion. Orange, signifying intense desire, and fervor. White, the reminder of innocence and purity. Yellow, the token of a great friendship.  
  
"Why are we wasting time in this flower shop?" Ivy complained, waving her hands in exasperation.  
  
"Do you know _why_ we are in this flower shop?" Tilly's eyes remained focused on the roses.  
  
"No..." Ivy shrugged.  
  
"Then how would you know _if_ we are wasting time?" Tilly smirked sagely.  
  
Bringing a hand up to cradle her forehead between two fingers, Ivy exhaled a defeated sigh. Massaging to alleviate an impending migraine, she couldn't argue rationally with the blonde's nonsensical logic. Ivy knew that in Tilly’s own odd way, she had a valid point.

Resigned to being stuck in the little shop for as long Tilly gallivanted throughout the store, the brunette took a moment to admire the polychromatic plants. It was quite an impressive collection of flora; orchids, chrysanthemums _,_ azaleas, and buttercups, the racks were brimming with flowers.  The wide variety of roses was especially astounding; Ivy didn't know that the prickly flower existed in such a wide assortment of colors.  
  
"Each color means something." Tilly said, her fingers examining each petal, "Yellow means friendship."  
  
"What a childish sentiment." Ivy mumbled.  
  
"White means purity."  
  
"A bit overrated."   
  
"Red means passion."  
  
"That was predictable."  
  
"Orange means intense desire."  
  
"How very repetitive."  
  
Although Ivy's replies seemed rude, each of them was accompanied by a playful smirk. Tilly had grown fond of the brunette's sarcastic quips. She was never discouraged by the cold deposition that Ivy felt the need to project, humoring the dark-haired girl's apparent desire to act cynical and pragmatic.  
  
Plucking a flower from deep within the container, Tilly grinned knowingly but didn't elaborate on the symbolism behind the unique color of its petals. Ivy bowed her head forward to better appraise the flower. From her initial glance, the brunette had thought that Tilly was holding a violet or a purple petunia. Upon closer inspection, Ivy realized that it was a _lavender rose_.   
  
Gliding toward the cash register, Tilly withheld her knowledge on what the rose's unique shading meant. Overwhelmed by curiosity, Ivy marched right behind Tilly, waiting for the golden-haired girl to tell her what lavender roses stood for. The brunette tugged at the strap of her handbag, trying to draw Tilly's attention through passive-aggressive mannerisms.  
  
Interchanging a pleasant smile with the shop's female merchant, Tilly silently paid for the flower. Tapping an index finger to her mouth, the blonde was beckoning the clerk to remain quiet. Ivy was growing irritated, watching the two young women complete the transaction without uttering a word.   
  
Even as a child, Ivy hated to be left out of a joke. Her jaw dropped when Tilly simply waved at the brown-haired attendant and headed for the exit. Both of them knew what the roses symbolized, but somehow Tilly had deducted that keeping the trivial fact a secret from Ivy was a surefire way of provoking an emotional response from the brunette.   
  
"Are you seriously _not_ going to tell me what lavender means?" Ivy snapped, "I can look it up on my mobile device, it's literally a few key strokes away."  
  
"And yet, you want _me_ to tell you." Tilly stopped by the flower shop's doorway, "As if it were some special secret."

Receiving a stern glare from the brunette, Tilly became acutely aware that she was pushing past the limit of Ivy's tolerance. She closed the distance between them with one large step. Tilly was only inches away from Ivy, looking down tenderly at the shorter girl.   
  
Unzipping a corner of Ivy's handbag, Tilly settled the flower inside. A glimmer of confusion flickered across the dark-haired girl's eyes, but she made no movement to remove the rose from its new container. The brunette's heart skipped a beat when Tilly leaned toward the side of her face, lips brushing against Ivy's earlobe.  
  
"Lavender means enchantment, a magical sort of love that is impossible to explain." Tilly murmured, pulling back with a half-smirk, "What? It's not childish, overrated, predictable, or repetitive?"  
  
Releasing a breath that Ivy didn't know how long she had been holding, the corners of her mouth shifted upward into a smile. It was sort of flattering, how Tilly had been listening to all of the brunette's condescending comments with undivided attention.  
  
"It's..." Ivy paused for a second before muttering softly, "All of the above."  
  
Hands shoved into the pockets of her denim jeans, Tilly grinned sheepishly. She led the brunette deeper into the shopping center, now with a destination clearly in mind. Ivy's earlier hypothesis was proven true, the blonde had been wandering aimlessly from place to place, stalling for time.  
  
Strolling inside a department store, the golden-haired girl had brought her foraging expedition to an end. It had all been some elaborate plan to extend the shopping excursion, but Ivy couldn't unravel the motive behind it.   
  
With whimsical precision, the blonde's eyes analyzed each clothing rack. Selecting a targeted area, Tilly rummaged through the hangers, retrieving a green jacket. With drawstrings and a hood, the coat seemed a bit too rustic for Ivy's taste.  
  
"Really?" Ivy lifted an eyebrow.  
  
The brunette's sanctimonious comment was to be expected. In terms of fashionable apparel, Tilly's preferred garments were never up to the level of Ivy's high standards. In this specific scenario, the jacket was at least two sizes too large for the golden-haired girl, and colored in a dull shade of green.  
  
"How do I look?" Tilly tried on the bulky jacket, flicking her curls out from beneath the hood.  
  
"As if you were wearing your father's military jacket." Ivy shook her head in disapproval.  
  
Gripping the lapels of the coat, Tilly laughed, amused by the other girl's grumblings. The blonde's gaze landed on Ivy while she was looking herself over in the mirror. She adjusted the shoulders, straightening out the polyester fabric. Content with her appearance, Tilly unceremoniously removed the green jacket and handed it over to Ivy.  
  
"Are you absolutely sure that you don't want a different coat?" Ivy groaned.  
  
"Nope, this one is totally my style." Tilly nodded.  
  
" _Style_ is a strong word to describe this article of clothing." Ivy held the green jacket between her index finger and thumb, as if it physically disgusted her to touch the jacket.  
  
"Well, time for my part of the deal." Tilly smirked, "While you pay for this, I'm going to step out and check on something. In case you hadn't noticed, I've been sort of stalling for a bit."

Understatement of the year, Ivy had spent hours following Tilly around throughout the shopping center. Spinning on one heel, the blonde twirled around and disappeared out the store's exit before Ivy could even formulate a rebuttal.

With a scoff, the brunette strutted toward the cash register, feeling an odd mixture of excitement and fright. The prospect of being swept away into some ridiculous adventure with Tilly was both exhilarating and terrifying. For all of the nagging and fussing that she did in the presence of the blonde, Ivy couldn't deny that she treasured the other girl's company.

Waiting in a line of people for her turn, the store clerk finally called on Ivy to approach the counter.  When it came time for the brunette to retrieve her purse, the ghost of a smile haunted Ivy's lips. The lavender rose was still tenderly perched on her handbag.


	10. Tragedies

Chapter 10

Tragedies

* * *

 

A tragedy is an event of great loss, a moment in time that a person often carries with them for the rest of their life. Whether by the element of failure, some flaw in character, or an extraordinary stroke of sheer misfortune, tragedies are said to define an individual's moral foundation.  
  
It only takes a second for a tragedy to occur, not a lot of preparation is required, no warnings are customary. In a single instant, everything that a person holds dear can be ripped away, distorting the very essence of their soul. A lesson that no one wants to learn by experience, but fate is an unforgiving teacher.  
  
One afternoon during the winter, it was a day like any other. Nothing in the clear sky had been foreboding or ominous. Sparrows and finches were chirping, their wings fluttering as they buzzed through the air. Squirrels scurried from branch to branch, perching on wooden limbs that wore a thick coat of frost. The forest had a silvery glow, conveying an enchanted fluorescent scenery.  
  
Marcus and Rapunzel Tremaine stood under the shade of a few pine trees, listening to the harmonious songs that the birds sang. From a distance, the couple watched over their children, Anastasia, Ella, and Drizella. The girls were constructing a snowman, giggling and dipping their fingers into the mushy ice, laughter filled the air.

Ever since Cecelia vanished without a trace, Ella had grown closer to Marcus. She wanted to flaunt her talent for decorating snowmen, an ability that consisted of being able to precisely pin ornamental garments into the frost. When a sudden gust of wind blew off the figure's top hat, her pride felt threatened.   
  
"I'll get it." Ella chirped, turning around.  
  
With a confident smile, Ella sauntered across the frozen lake to retrieve the finishing piece. Heels pressing against the frosted ground, Anastasia noticed how Ella's footsteps were cracking the ice.   
  
"Hey, Ella." Anastasia called out to Ella.  
  
The brown-haired girl's heart thumped, fearing for the safety of her stepsister. Walking on tiptoes, Anastasia slowly made her way to Ella. The younger brunette grabbed the top hat, feeling victorious for a brief moment, before everything came tumbling down.  
  
The sharp sound that the ice made when it shattered would forever be embroidered on the surface of Drizella's memory. Ella and Anastasia had both fallen into the frozen lake. Where two cheerful girls used to be, now lied a jagged crater. It all happened so fast, Drizella could only remember a series of noises and screams.

Rapunzel was hysterical, clinging to Drizella's arm. Marcus tried to save his children, diving into the icy waters valiantly. The raven-haired man swam the best that he could, struggling against the currents. Wrapping his arm around the first girl that he spotted, Marcus managed to rescue Ella, his beloved stepdaughter. The brunette began coughing, her lungs gasping for air.   
  
Submerging himself once more, the desperate father had been able to pull out Anastasia’s lifeless body, an endeavor that seemed to be fruitless. The brown-haired girl's lips were purple, her skin was as pale as the snow, a complexion that indicated death. Rapunzel threw herself on top of Anastasia, wailing in an inconsolable manner. Within seconds, Drizella realized that her older sister was gone.   
  
No more crawling into Anastasia's bed after a horrendous nightmare and receiving a tight embrace. No longer would the older girl prepare hot chocolate with extra marshmallows for her little sister. No one was ever going to read Drizella a book using different voices and tones for each of the fictional characters.    
  
Drizella could not even mourn her sister properly, since Rapunzel held a macabre monopoly on grief. In her despair, the golden-haired woman tried to make a deal with a powerful witch, by the name of Gothel, the same sorceress who had kept her imprisoned in a tower for years. Drizella had never believed her mother’s tale, she didn’t think that Gothel even existed.

To their dismay, Gothel was real, a sinister woman who held many hidden agendas. Rapunzel was desperate, she didn't care about the consequence of her actions. In the end, Gothel had only been able to put Anastasia in a perpetual state of comatose, a profound form of sleep.

With a new goal in mind, Rapunzel refused to give her eldest daughter a burial. She was going to bring Anastasia back, _true love_ would prevail. Countless times, the devoted mother kissed the innocent girl's forehead, wishing for a miracle that never occurred. There was no sudden burst of true love's energy to revitalize Anastasia, she remained unconscious, trapped in a deep slumber.  
  
For all her motherly concern, Rapunzel's love for Anastasia had been powerless to revive her. The myths and the legends, all were proven wrong. In the back of Drizella’s mind, she thought about the possibility that Rapunzel's maternal affection did not hold much potency. A woman who had failed to love all her children equally was not equipped with a heart pure enough to perform benevolent magic.

Locked in a secluded room, isolated from all the servants and the house staff, Anastasia was preserved in a crystal coffin. Not even Marcus Tremaine was allowed to visit his own daughter's mausoleum without Rapunzel's permission. Ella and Drizella were explicitly prohibited from setting a foot near the brown-haired girl's resting place.  
  
Never much for obedience, Drizella would sneak inside Anastasia's chamber in the middle of the night, longing to see her sister. She hovered by the transparent casket, admiring how peaceful the older girl looked as she slept. Lowering her head onto the glass cover, Drizella broke down in tears.  
  
"I'm s-sorry, Ana..." Drizella sobbed, "This happened because I always want to build dumb s-snowmen and play o-outside."  
  
Anastasia deserved better than being treated like Rapunzel's special porcelain doll for all of eternity. It wasn't fair. Her elder sister had just been trying to save Ella, she shouldn't have to pay such a steep price for her altruism.  
  
"Wake up, Ana." Drizella begged, banging on the crystal cover, "Please."  
  
From an early age, Drizella had exhibited an affinity for magic. She was far from becoming a spellbinding enchantress, but the young girl frequently found herself moving objects without touching them, or lighting candles by simply staring at their wicks.   
  
"Please, Ana. I need you to wake up." Drizella pleaded through the glass, "Please, Ana."  
  
If Drizella was somehow able to resuscitate her sister, she would finally earn Rapunzel's love. As her fists slammed onto the lid of older girl's casket, the small brunette knew that her parlor tricks were no match against Anastasia's predicament.  
  
As much as Drizella wanted to believe in magic, her faith in fairytales was dwindling. Tragedies, capricious incidents that seem destined to happen. Her sister was _gone_ and childish musings were not going to bring her back from the dead.

The years went by, Drizella's spirit grew cynical and jaded, unable to weather Rapunzel’s constant beratement. Although Anastasia's death always weighed heavily on Drizella's heart, letting go of hope was truly the greatest loss that she would ever experience in her life.

* * *

Skies were painted with the orange hue of twilight, feathery beams shined from behind a mass of clouds. The tired sun was retreating into the horizon, giving way for the moon and the stars to begin their late shift. Dusk often seemed like a bewitching time, the transition between day and night.  
  
Stepping outside the department store, a shopping bag in one hand, Ivy scanned the desolate surroundings. Much to her disappointment, Tilly was nowhere to be seen. The brunette had expected to find the other girl diligently waiting for her with some ludicrous surprise. Ivy hated not knowing what Tilly had planned.  
  
A soft tap on her shoulder, Ivy pivoted around and came face to face with a familiar blonde. Tilly wore a goofy smile, her cerulean eyes glimmered with an iridescent glow. Something about the way that the blonde looked at her had changed. It was as if the golden-haired girl had figured out a riddle and Ivy was the correct solution.   
  
"Did you miss me?" Tilly smiled, her warm breath converted into a visible white mist when it met the chilly atmosphere.   
  
Under the scrutiny of Tilly's tender gaze, Ivy felt more vulnerable than she ever had in her entire life. A fluttering sensation erupted within her stomach, an ache that the brunette wouldn't dare to define.  
  
"Well, I didn't want to spend the night carrying this." Ivy grunted.  
  
"Oh, right!" Tilly chirped gleefully.  
  
Presenting Tilly with a shopping bag, their knuckles brushed as the item was transferred one hand to another. A jolt passing between them, Ivy did her best to ignore the sensation. She watched the blonde eagerly scuffle through the contents.

Tilly pulled out the green jacket, slipping into the oversized garment, a single arm at a time. She tugged at the drawstrings, trying to adjust the hood. When Tilly felt satisfied with how low the hemline was positioned, she began flattening the lapels of the coat. A perfect fit, she bunched up the plastic bag and tossed it in a nearby trashcan.  
  
"Well, let's go." Tilly shoved her fists into the coat's pockets, enthusiastically yearning to escort the brunette to an undisclosed location.  
  
Ivy tilted her head pensively, shifting closer to the blonde. She stood up on her tiptoes, using one hand to fix the taller girl's crooked collar. Auburn eyes intently focused on Tilly's mouth. The brunette was only a breath away from making a decision that would ruin everything transpiring between them. Fingers trembling as she realigned the jacket's neckline, Ivy dispelled her feelings away and took a step back from Tilly.  
  
"T-Thanks." Tilly stuttered, caught off guard by Ivy's audacity.  
  
"No problem." Ivy bit her lower lip.  
  
There was nothing more adorable than seeing Ivy act like a schoolgirl with a crush. Tilly grinned, bringing her hand up to Ivy's head. She seized a loose strand of raven hair in her hand, tucking the rebellious curl behind Ivy's ear. Tilly let her fingertips trail along the back of the brunette's neck, before abruptly pulling back. As both young women stared at each other, Ivy cleared her throat to diffuse the tension.   
  
"So, you said that we were going somewhere?" Ivy almost sounded eager.  
  
"Yes! And we're running late." Tilly scrunched back her sleeve, looking at her wrist watch.  
  
Flashing a mischievous smirk, Tilly hooked her arm with Ivy's own, leading them both across the street. Lamp posts flickered on, signaling the arrival of the night. Only a few people roamed through the sidewalks, creating a relatively peaceful ambiance.   
  
The autumn breeze was frigid, sending shivers down Ivy's spine. She clung on to the golden-haired girl's arm tightly, her head grazing against Tilly's shoulder. A bold display of affection, the brunette would rather blame the cold weather for her behavior than acknowledge an ulterior motive. True to the state of denial, she ignored the palpitations of her heart when Tilly interlaced their fingers in response.    
  
Navigating through alleyways and hidden trails, Tilly made a few unexpected turns as she guided Ivy through paths that the bewildered girl had never encountered before. Tilly knew the neighborhood like the back of her hand. Based on the look of confusion painted across her raven-haired companion's face, she presumed that Ivy wasn't accustomed to taking leisurely strolls around Hyperion Heights.  
  
Large neon signs came into view, the smell of popcorn hung in the air. A movie theater, with an exterior decor made to look rustic and rough, as if the establishment had been fabricated many years ago. The structure was all steel and concrete underneath, but the walls were stacked up with layers of old-fashioned bricks in order to give the building a vintage appearance.  
  
"We are going to see a movie?" Ivy groused as she unhooked arms with Tilly.  
  
The brunette was clearly not a fan of most cinematic works. She feared that Tilly would force her to sit through one of Disney's irritating animated films. Imagining how torturous the ordeal might be had already caused a scowl to manifest itself on Ivy's face prematurely. It was worth nothing that the option of refusing Tilly's offer and simply heading home had not crossed Ivy's mind. 

"Yes, and before you complain, I promise that we aren't watching anything made by Disney." Tilly snatched Ivy's hand, "I got tickets for a horror film."  
  
"Oh." Ivy blushed, embarrassed that Tilly could read her expression with such accuracy, "I sort of like those."  
  
"Yeah, I figured." Tilly giggled, "Gore and terror, Ivy Belfrey's preferred form of entertainment."  
  
"Hey!" Ivy lightly slapped the taller girl's arm, a gesture that was more playful than malicious.  
  
Handing the two tickets to the movie attendant, Tilly tugged the brunette. Following the golden-haired girl with little reluctance, Ivy's eyes kept roaming around the facility. Truth be told, Ivy had never been to a movie theater, and the experience was foreign to her.  
  
The floors were covered with red carpeting that was seldom cleaned properly, dried pieces of gum and shoe scruffings were quite visible on the ground. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, thoroughly unimpressed with the level of maintenance at the movie theater.  
  
"Come on, it's not _that_ bad." Tilly nudged her toward a corridor.  
  
It never ceased to amaze Ivy how the blonde could essentially perceive her thoughts. She allowed herself to be dragged in front of a concession stand. Ivy had anticipated that the other girl was going to behave childishly, but she could have never predicted how it wouldn't even slightly perturb her.

From buttery popcorn, to gummy worms, to chocolate candy pieces, Tilly had purchased every single snack option that the concession stand had on display, an absurd amount of food.  
  
Trudging into the auditorium, Tilly guided the brunette to their seats. She glanced at Ivy, it was adorable to see her brown eyes inspect the whole room, as if she had never been to a cinema before. Pulling the dark-haired girl down, Tilly settled for two chairs in the middle section of the theater.  
  
"Do you want some popcorn?" Tilly waved the bag in front of Ivy.  
  
"Do you _purposely_ forget that I'm dieting?" Ivy groaned.  
  
"Is that a yes?" Tilly persisted, "You know, if you add the chocolate morsels to the popcorn, the sweet and the salty flavors make a delicious combination."   
  
Tilly sprinkled chocolate candies into the popcorn, shaking the bag to combine the sweet and salty morsels together. Satisfied that the kernels had efficiently become assorted with the cocoa pellets, she offered Ivy the new concoction.   
  
"Here, try it." Tilly seemed oblivious to the raven-haired girl's grievances.  
  
Out of sheer curiosity, Ivy conceded. She gathered a small handful of pieces in her palm. The brunette cautiously flicked a few chunks in her mouth, discovering that the candied morsels were actually chocolate-covered pistachios. The popcorn's unique taste complimented the salty sensation of the cashew nuts, resulting in an overall pleasant flavor.

The lights were suddenly dimmed down, announcing the film's commencement. Tilly didn't gloat about Ivy's acquired fondness for the snack mixture, she simply held the bag of treats in between their seats, within Ivy's reach. In return for Tilly's modesty, the brunette desisted from commenting on how the golden-haired girl's arm had been coiled around her chair's backrest.

As the projector started to shine images onto the screen, Ivy shifted closer to Tilly. She nestled her head into the crook of the taller girl's neck. Tilly didn't utter a word, acting like Ivy was a wild fox that might be startled with the slightest of movements. Shuffling her arm around the brunette's shoulders, a dopey grin appeared on Tilly's face when she didn't sense Ivy flinching away. The film began, both young women refrained from speaking, and in the quietude of the auditorium, Tilly heard her heart skip a beat every time that Ivy's breath tingled against her skin.


	11. Sugar-Coated Beignets

Chapter 11

Sugar-Coated Beignets

* * *

 

A jukebox is a coin-operated machine that will play a patron's selection of music. It has buttons with letters and numbers on them that when entered in a peculiar combination, are used to play a specific option. The device was popular during the era of vinyl records, but began to disappear from public establishments after the invention of the cassette tape.   
  
It was uncommon for a jukebox to be found at a modern bar, but the locale known as Roni's, had a few features that were unorthodox. The establishment seemed more like a family restaurant, it sold hamburgers and fries, implementing a lenient policy toward children by allowing them to enter the facility. A jukebox rested near the back of the dining area, waiting to be found by any intrepid customer.   
  
For the past few hours, Tilly had been examining the machine. As she sipped on her chocolate milkshake, the blonde had been glancing at the musical contraption. Detective Weaver had requested to meet her at the pub, which meant that he probably wanted an update on the illicit activities occurring at Hyperion Heights. Ever the diligent informant, Tilly was happy to offer a report, in exchange for a meal.  
  
Except for a few truckers scattered around the restaurant, the place was mostly deserted. Finishing the last drop of her milkshake, Tilly abandoned the glass on top of the jukebox. Inserting a quarter in the coin slot, the golden-haired girl tried to make a selection, scanning each choice and analyzing her options.   
  
"So, does my favorite informant have anything new to tell me?"   
  
A gruff voice addressed the blonde from behind her. Detective Weaver wasn't an advocate for hollow greetings or meaningless chatter, he went directly to the heart of the matter. With a bemused smirk, the brown-haired man waited for Tilly to turn around.  
  
"Good afternoon, Detective Weaver." Tilly saluted the man playfully.  
  
"Good afternoon, Tilly." Detective Weaver humored her, "So, is there anything happening in the criminal underworld that I should know about?"  
  
"Not a lot to report, sir. Ralph is selling bootleg movies, a few kids are spraying graffiti at one of Victoria Belfrey's new construction sites, and that's about it." Tilly chirped, leaning against the jukebox, "But to be fair, I've been sort of busy lately."  
  
"Busy with some sort of an illegal scam?" The older man quirked an eyebrow.  
  
"Nah, just spending time with a girl." Tilly couldn't stop a dopey grin from appearing on her face as she thought about Ivy.  
  
"A new girlfriend?" Detective Weaver teased.  
  
"Hm. I'm not sure if she would even consider us to be friends." Tilly tilted her head pensively.  
  
"Well, anyhow..." Tilly pulled out his wallet, "How much do I owe you?"  
  
"Just to pay for this milkshake." Tilly pointed at the empty glass cheekily, "I didn't have much information."  
  
"You need to stop wasting time with that mystery girl of yours, or well, you might start losing your touch." The shrewd man pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, "Will this cover it?"  
  
"Yep." Tilly snatched the slip of paper from Detective Weaver's hand.  
  
Whistling softly to herself, Tilly spun around on one heel. Her back facing Detective Weaver, the blonde wore a mischievous smirk. She pretended to focus her attention back on the jukebox.   
  
"Well, I'm off then." Detective Weaver, took a step back, pivoting to leave.  
  
"Without your fancy watch?" Tilly chuckled, dangling the expensive trinket in her hand.  
  
"When did you-"  
  
"Lost my _touch_ now, have I?" Tilly interrupted the bewildered man's statement with a quip, flinging the item to Detective Weaver.  
  
Catching his wristwatch with one hand, Detective Weaver let out a brief, wry laugh. He shook his head in amusement, nodding at Tilly before heading for the exit. The blonde had made her point, she was still as skillful and dexterous as ever.  
  
"B..." Tilly muttered out loud as she placed her hands on the jukebox, "...7."

After pressing the buttons that corresponded with her intended choice, Tilly began humming along with the music. The bar was suddenly filled with the sound of a classic tune by Elvis Presley, _Can't Help Falling in Love_. Her head swaying with the melody, the blonde's fingers tapped the selection display board of the jukebox.  
  
" _Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can't help falling in love with you. Shall I stay? Would it be a sin? If I can't help falling in love with you_."  
  
As Elvis Presley's singing resonated throughout the dining area, the ballad's words became engraved in Tilly's mind. She sighed to herself, toying with the twenty-dollar bill in her hands. After paying for her milkshake, the blue-eyed girl was going to need a strong, alcoholic beverage. Only a few glasses of whiskey could help Tilly forget why the song's lyrics were bothering her.

* * *

It had been a bright, gorgeous afternoon. Jovial mockingbirds sang a happy symphony, rejoicing that the skies were clear and blue, with not a single cloud in sight. It seemed as if nature was observing the fact that the weekend had almost arrived, procuring perfect meteorological conditions and pristine weather to generate enthusiasm for upcoming days.  
  
The sun shined down on the Belfrey Towers, a facility with countless floors, and faithful laborers who slaved away for their employer, Victoria Belfrey. The tall skyscraper was like a majestic castle, full of servants and minions, all bowing before a cruel woman who acted as ruthless as a despotic queen.  
  
Sitting by her post at the receptionist desk, Ivy could only catch glimpses of the outside world. The window was too far of a distance from her. Days didn't use to be so dull, or perhaps Ivy had failed to notice just how mundane her work routine was before now. The minutes were ticking away into hours, but the pace was nowhere quick enough for the dark-haired girl's liking.  
  
Head propped up with one arm, Ivy had been absentmindedly doodling on a notepad, trying to pass the time. Rabbit. Mushroom. Rose. The common theme behind her collection of small drawings was clear. A certain golden-haired girl had been consuming her thoughts, inspiring quite a set of contemporary artwork.  
  
Releasing a sigh, Ivy ripped out the incriminating piece of paper from her notepad, scrunching the sheet up before she tossed it inside a trashcan under the desk. No matter how hard she tried, Ivy couldn't stop thinking about the blonde. A severe case of self-indulgence, the raven-haired girl wanted to see Tilly tonight but she would need to fabricate some type of excuse. Ivy might be able to pretend that Victoria had assigned an errand for her to complete, one which required Tilly's assistance.  
  
"Ivy." A short-haired woman approached Ivy's desk, her mouth contorted into a frown.   
  
The disdain in Victoria Belfrey's voice was evident, she glared at her daughter with a stern expression. Expensive silk dress, a luxurious pearl necklace, designer brand shoes to match her extravagant handbag, the older woman's single outfit held more value than the average person's entire wardrobe.  
  
"I need you to get me more tea." Victoria demanded.  
  
"What kind?" Ivy inquired.  
  
"Chamomile." Victoria replied curtly, "And don't come home without it."  
  
The wicked woman narrowed her eyes at Ivy, as if the brunette should have known what type of tea she was referring to. The level of contempt reflected in Victoria's sapphire irises would have bothered Ivy when she was a child, but the dark-haired girl had adapted to processing her mother's callous mistreatment.  
  
"Yes, mother." Ivy stood up from her chair.  
  
Snatching her handbag from off the desk, Ivy trudged toward the elevators. She didn't spare her mother a second glance, yearning to leave the Belfrey Towers as fast as possible. Ivy felt like a prisoner who had been bestowed the coveted gift of freedom.

Looking down at her mobile phone, the screen indicated that it was currently five in the afternoon. Based on her past experiences, Tilly had a habit of lounging around the Aurora Bridge during this time of day. If Ivy hurried, she should arrive at the area before nightfall. It wouldn't take much to convince Tilly to help her find the tea. The blonde was likely to escort Ivy to some secluded supermarket, taking a lot of detours along the way, and offering her treats that were brimming with carbohydrates.   
  
As she tapped her foot impatiently, the elevator chimed loudly. Metallic doors sliding open, she stepped inside and pressed a button. Heart thumping with excitement, a fond smile manifested itself on Ivy's face. She couldn't remember the last time that the thought of seeing someone had ever made her feel so happy.

* * *

When the sun vanished from the sky, the long road became shrouded by a cloak of darkness. Concrete barriers became covered with graffiti as the path led into the poorer neighborhoods. Arising at the distance, the Aurora Bridge had a haunting appearance during the night, its columns of cement held the structure up like a pair of monstrous legs. Standing at the height of a behemoth, the troll monument towered over the adjacent street in a menacing fashion.  
  
Pressing gently on the brakes, Ivy pulled her sedan up to the curb of the sidewalk, near a lone parking meter. She couldn't see Tilly anywhere, the area seemed desolate. The raven-haired girl tentatively opened her car door, stepping outside the vehicle. A broken lamp post illuminated the street with a flickering light. Ivy gazed over her barren surroundings, hoping to find a particular blonde.  
  
The sign outside of a bedraggled, shabby bar flashed brightly with its name. _Roni's_. Chipped paint colored its walls, a board had been hung by the window. A message handwritten using a marker, indicating that the establishment was offering a special discount on alcoholic beverages. Ivy threaded a hand through her short locks, she would much rather not have to enter the little pub, but there was a decent chance of finding Tilly inside.   
  
With a frustrated huff, Ivy began trudging toward Roni's, crossing the street as she made her way to the entrance. To the brunette's great fortune, the door swung open while she had been hesitating to grab the dirty handle with her bare hand. A hooded figure emerged from the establishment, wearing an olive-green jacket that Ivy could recognize anywhere. It was impossible for two replicas of the hideous garment to exist.  
  
"Tilly?" Ivy addressed the person, reaching out to boldly yank off the hood.  
  
"I-Ivy?" Tilly stammered, taking a stumble backwards.  
  
Cerulean eyes blinked rapidly when exposed to the glimmering light of the nearby lamp post, Tilly shielded her face with one hand. After a couple of seconds, the blonde's head shook from side to side, dropping her arm. Pupils had dilated, adjusting to the luminosity in the street.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Tilly's voice sounded raspy.  
  
The distinct smell of alcohol wafted through the air, revealing that the blonde had been drinking heavily. Her retinas were bloodshot, legs were wobbly as she struggled to maintain her balance. Ivy had never expected to find Tilly in such an uncharacteristic state of inebriation.  
  
"Have you've been _drinking_?" Ivy blurted out her tone laced with disapproval.  
  
"Hush. Not so loud." Tilly covered her ears with both hands, "And I repeat. What are _you_ doing here?"  
  
"Well, my mother asked me to get her some chamomile tea and I thought that you could help me." Ivy explained briskly.  
  
"Chamomile tea? That's _literally_ the most common type of tea. You can find it at any convenience store." Tilly groaned, shoving both hands in her jacket's pockets.  
  
"Yes, but I-"  
  
"You don't _need_ me, and I'm not your bloody servant!" Tilly snapped, stomping one foot to emphasize her declaration.

The brunette felt her stomach churn, face and ears heating up. She was flustered by Tilly's sudden display of hostility. Opening her mouth to respond, Ivy was at a loss for words. She had never once considered Tilly to be her servant; the idea was simply preposterous. Ivy bit her lower lip, trying to maintain at least an ounce of composure.  
  
Tilly instantly regretted her outburst the moment that she saw the hurt painted on Ivy's face. She stared at the brunette's reddening cheeks, guilt congesting against her throat. Ivy looked crestfallen, like a small child who had been mistreated by her parents. It wasn't the dark-haired girl's fault that Tilly had spent the evening wallowing in self-pity and drinking whiskey to numb her sorrows. The blonde was solely responsible for her own heartache. An unrequited crush on a heterosexual young woman, how cliché, even by Tilly's cheesy standards.  
  
"I-I'm sorry to have bothered you." Clutching her handbag tightly, Ivy started turning around to leave.  
  
Lunging forward, Tilly reached out and grabbed the brunette's arm. Fingers coiling around Ivy's wrist, she held the shorter girl firmly in place.  
  
“W-Wait, Ivy.” Tilly pleaded, her expression softening.  
  
Ivy obliged and spun back to face Tilly. Auburn eyes darted around, avoiding the blonde's empathetic gaze. Ivy couldn't let Tilly see just how much distress her blunt words had caused.  
  
Bringing her hand up to Ivy's head, the blonde's bended knuckles caressed the shorter girl's face. Tilly felt horrible for her actions. Using a thumb to stroke Ivy's cheeks, she began massaging the brunette's skin until the agitated blush subsided.  
  
"I'm sorry, Ivy." Tilly murmured gently, "I had a bad day, but that's no excuse for lashing out at you. Let me make it up to you, please?"  
  
Chewing her cheek, Ivy relented a small smile. It felt good to receive a sincere apology from someone. She had never heard one from her mother, but seeing Tilly eagerly concede an admission of remorse was therapeutic. Ivy gave the blonde a curt nod, acknowledging Tilly's offer. The golden-haired girl's fingertips brushed against Ivy's jaw as she lowered her hand.  
  
"Apology accepted." Ivy replied, making an effort to appear nonchalant.  
  
"Great!" Tilly beamed, regaining her usual cheerful disposition, "Now let's go get that chamomile tea at the bodega around the corner. There's this place nearby that sells the best sugar-coated beignets."   
  
"You find it impossible to comprehend that I don't want to consume carbs." Ivy sighed in response.  
  
"I meant, the best plates of lettuce."  
  
"You mean the best _salads_?"  
  
"Yes, that's basically what I said."  
  
Tugging at the brunette's hand, Tilly led her down the sidewalk with a catlike grin. Ivy feigned reluctance, as if the prospect of eating sweet pastries after a grueling workday wasn't utterly enticing. This was what she had been yearning for all  throughout the week, the warmth of Tilly's fingers interlaced with her own. Dodging commuters and pedestrians along the way, the blonde behaved like they were the only people in the city who mattered. It may have been a selfish notion, but it was one that Ivy vehemently agreed with.


	12. Stars

Chapter 12

Stars

* * *

 

True love's kiss. An incomprehensible form of benevolent magic, its power has been venerated by people throughout the ages. The legend states that when a person who falls under a curse is kissed by their destined lover, a visible wave of prism light would pulsate between them, destroying all sinister kinds of enchantments. A romantic notion, proclaiming that two people were meant to be together for the rest of their lives. The love that a preordained couple share was capable of overcoming any malignant spell.  
  
Listening to her parents argue every day, Drizella began losing faith in true love. After Anastasia's death, Marcus and Rapunzel could barely stand to look at each other. She resented him for not being able to rescue their eldest daughter from the icy waters of the frozen lake, and he despised her for not being Cecelia, the woman who his heart belonged to.  
  
Distancing themselves from one another, Marcus cemented a bond with Ella, his stepdaughter, while Rapunzel developed the habit of criticizing her one remaining child, Drizella. It was unjust. Anastasia had died trying to save Ella, and now on top of that, the dark-haired girl was exclusively patenting her father's time.  
  
Since Rapunzel, or _Lady Tremaine_ as she preferred to be called, disliked her stepdaughter, Marcus took it upon to himself to overcompensate. The blue-eyed woman frequently berated Ella, treating her like a pariah. In a misguided attempt to please her mother, Drizella pushed the other girl away, an action that left the brunette feeling more alone than ever. For as much as she helped Rapunzel with tormenting Ella, those actions didn't garner her mother's love, only earned Drizella some type of moderate tolerance.  
  
Rapunzel often forced Drizella to join her for tea and cookies, a recreation of the leisure activity that the embittered woman and her most beloved child had enjoyed partaking in. It was no secret that she considered her youngest daughter to be a poor replacement for Anastasia, a hollow substitute for the sanctified brown-haired girl. Rapunzel found it difficult to hide her disdain for Drizella, even when they were simply lounging in the courtyard on a sunny afternoon.  
  
The streaming water from the fountain made a rhythmic sound, providing a serene atmosphere. Two lavish cushion chairs had been arranged around a small table. The surface held trays of treats and beverages that the servants had prepared; chamomile tea, lemon bars, fudge brownies, and shortbread cookies. All of Anastasia's favorite confectioneries.  
  
"Do you think that Anastasia could be awaken with true love's kiss?" Drizella had innocently asked.   
  
"True love?" Rapunzel's sapphire eyes narrowed in Drizella's direction.  
  
"Yeah, like if a person who really loves Anastasia kisses her then-"  
  
"I _know_ what true love's kiss is, Drizella." Rapunzel snapped, "But do you mean to imply that my love for Anastasia was not strong enough to awaken her?"  
  
"No, I-I..." Drizella trailed off.  
  
If honesty were permitted, Drizella would tell her mother that she didn't know how the frigid woman could even be capable of true love. Anastasia was probably destined for a pure-hearted hero, _or heroine_ , equipped with a pair of striking green eyes and an adorable set of dimples. Yet, Drizella chose to bite her tongue, repressing the negative sentiments that she felt for Rapunzel.  
  
"Stop stuttering, Drizella." Rapunzel snickered, "It's quite unbecoming for a lady."  
  
Keeping turbulent emotions bottled inside, Drizella allowed her hatred for Rapunzel to grow, slowly fermenting into something even more vile than disdain. Her mother's abuse ate away at Drizella, darkening the poor girl's soul. As time passed, Rapunzel became only known as Lady Tremaine, and the jovial girl that Drizella was dead, converting into a snobbish young woman who only dreamed of being freed from the shackles of fate.

* * *

It was an unusually clear night, the stars and the moon illuminated the sky, overcoming the radiant lights of the city. The celestial objects twinkled from up above, a rare sight for an urban area. Some neighborhoods in Hyperion Heights were shrouded in darkness, lacking high-powered lamp posts at every street corner. With autumn slowly arriving, there was a chilly breeze in the air. 

A relatively small building came into view, abandoned and deserted. Layers upon layers of graffiti decorated its exterior. Sharing a creepy alleyway with a large skyscraper, an unstable fire escape staircase was propped on the vandalized cement walls, leading up to the rooftop. The structural integrity of the entire edifice seemed questionable at best.  
  
Persuading Ivy to follow her into this isolated location had been easier than Tilly would have expected, but considering how hard the brunette's hand was squeezing her fingers, it became apparent that she was growing weary. Flashing Ivy a warm smile, Tilly waved a paper box in front of the raven-haired girl.  
  
"Do you want the _last_ beignet?" Tilly nudged the brunette with her elbow.  
  
Ivy was never able to stay faithful to her diet around the blonde, having already consumed three of the six beignets that Tilly had purchased at a small café. The flaky pastries were extremely addictive, sprinkled with a thick coat of powdered sugar.  
  
"No." Ivy replied a little too quickly, "I want to know why we are in the middle of a random alleyway."  
  
" _Random?_ " Tilly gasped theatrically, releasing Ivy's hand to retrieve the last beignet from the box, "This is _the_ alleyway where we first met."  
  
"Well, I'm sorry if every ominous corridor in Seattle looks the same to me." Ivy folded her arms.  
  
With a playful shrug, Tilly disposed the empty pastry box in one of the many trashcans that were lined up against the wall. She shifted closer to Ivy, reaching out to take a hold of the brunette's hand. Fingers pulling at Ivy's sleeve, Tilly placed the last beignet on top of the young woman's palm.  
  
"Here you go." Tilly chirped, "You can have the last one."  
  
Skipping along toward the fire escape staircase, the blonde winked at Ivy. She had a feeling that the prudish girl would never admit to desiring the remaining beignet. An incriminating blush colored Ivy's cheeks, proving that Tilly's assumption had been accurate.  
  
Looking up at the fire escape staircase, Tilly performed a small hop and grabbed a bar, pulling down the short ladder. Ivy nibbled on the sugary treat as she stared at the blonde. Tilly adjusted the metal contraption, anchoring it to the ground securely. Clapping her hands proudly, she spun around to face Ivy.  
  
"Good, you finished the beignet." Tilly observed with a nod, "Come on, I'll help you climb."  
  
"What? No!" Ivy scoffed, "There is no way that I'm climbing up there. It sure as hell doesn't look safe."  
  
"Huh?" Tilly glanced at the ladder, "Well, I'll go up first then."  
  
Tilly coiled her fingers around a bar, scaling up the ladder with great ease. She reached the top of the platform, crouching on her knees to look down at Ivy. The blonde extended an arm out, urging the other girl to join her.  
  
"Come on." Tilly beckoned, flailng her hand.  
  
"No." Ivy shook her head, "It's unsafe, and unsanitary, and-"  
  
" _Unbelievable_." Tilly rolled her eyes teasingly, "Trust me. You'll be fine. Just grab my hand."  
  
Twisting her mouth into a bemused grimace, Ivy reluctantly walked toward the ladder. She inspected the apparatus before tentatively lifting a foot on top of the lowest bar. The brunette was grateful to have worn flat-heeled shoes instead of the fashionable stilettos that she usually had on.     
  
After positioning her leg on the ladder, Ivy gripped the blonde's hand. With a jerking motion, Tilly effortlessly propelled the slim girl all the way up to her. Emitting a startled yelp, Ivy's fingers latched onto Tilly's biceps, terrified of falling down. An arm encircled around Ivy's waist, Tilly helped the brunette's feet reach the platform.  
  
"I've got you." Tilly murmured, smiling tenderly at Ivy, "I'd never let you fall."  
  
Under her fingertips, Ivy could feel the muscles on the blonde's arm flex. She was impressed with how Tilly had lifted her up to the fire escape staircase with such a steady movement. Looking up at the taller girl, Ivy noticed two cerulean eyes staring back at her with a glint of amusement.  
  
"Thanks." Ivy quipped, releasing the other girl's arms and shuffling to the side.

"You're welcome." Tilly was still grinning at Ivy, "Now, come on. We just have to go up this flight of stairs."  
  
Tilly guided the brunette up the steps, leading her to the empty rooftop. Not even pigeons dared to perch themselves on top of the eerie building at night. Ivy followed the blonde, who stopped walking once she was standing in the middle of the edifice. Her sights set on the sky, Ivy stood beside the golden-haired girl.  
  
"The stars sure are bright out tonight." Ivy muttered, her voice was low, "I mean, the city lights usually hinder their visibility.   
  
Tilly hummed, looking up at the masses of constellations that the vast field of darkness offered her. She moved behind Ivy, reaching down and seizing the brunette's hand. Tilly pressed against the smaller girl's back, wrapping an arm around Ivy's stomach.

For a second, Ivy's body became tense. The brunette's heartbeat sped up, she hated how easy it was for Tilly to rattle her. Feeling the taller girl's breath against the back of her neck, Ivy had to admit that she found the sensation to be quite pleasant.  
  
"Do you see that one star near the middle?” Ivy nodded, following Tilly’s index finger, “That is Antares, the heart of Scorpio, your zodiac sign."  
  
"How could you _possibly_ know that?" Ivy felt Tilly's chin rest on her shoulder.  
  
Those born under the sign of Scorpio were known to be secretive and reserved, brimming with an intensity that some people consider overbearing. Passionate, driven, loyal, a Scorpio always wants to be the master of their own destiny.  
  
"Lucky guess." Tilly chuckled.   
  
The blonde continued on, her index finger tracing the sky as she led Ivy’s eyes from star to star and planet to planet, naming the brightest and the biggest celestial bodies. Tilly pointed out each constellation, reciting what she knew about every zodiac sign, starting from the generous Leo, moving on to the adventurous Sagittarius, and ending with the hopeful Pisces.  
  
Ivy tilted her head slightly, her gaze slowly traveled from the sky to Tilly, studying the golden-haired girl in a bath of starlight. The blonde's smile never faltered as she spoke, her sapphire irises were fluorescent, and her pale skin glowed. The outline of Tilly’s face seemed even more beautiful under the illuminating moonbeams.  
  
“Find something more interesting than the sky?” Tilly murmured, focusing her attention solely on Ivy.  
  
Ivy's pupils had dilated, her lips parted slightly as Tilly’s stare didn't waver. She turned around to look at the taller girl, whose arm remained loosely snaked over her waist. With a contemplative sigh, Ivy accepted that she couldn’t free herself from Tilly’s spell. The blonde's hold on her was stronger than the gravitational forces keeping the planets in orbit, and Ivy was incapable of struggling against the pull for much longer.   
  
"Yes." Ivy whispered huskily.   
  
Tilly’s breath quickened, her chest rising and falling unevenly due to the brunette's sudden proximity. Contradicting all the times that Ivy had emphasized how she was only attracted to boys, her auburn eyes were directly glaring at Tilly’s mouth with a sense of purpose. At a sluggish pace, Ivy's hands came to rest on top of the blonde's shoulders.  
  
The distance between Ivy and Tilly was infinitesimal, every heartbeat resonated throughout each of their bodies. Both girls could feel every artery contract, blood rushing through their veins. Despite the cold weather, the temperature skyrocketed as the two young women breathed into the same space.   
  
Placing her palm on Ivy's cheek, Tilly's fingers brushed along the brunette's smooth jawline. After a series of gentle touches, Tilly began to lean in, overwhelmed by an impulse that she couldn’t explain. Parting her lips, eyelids fluttering shut, the blonde was seduced by the smaller girl’s intoxicating scent, wanting to discover how Ivy’s mouth felt against her own.  
  
A hand pressed upon her sternum firmly, Tilly opened her eyes, wondering if she had misread the signs. It wasn’t the blonde's intention to force herself onto Ivy, and the dark-haired girl seemed on the verge of tears, shaking her head from side to side.  
  
“I-I'm scared.” Ivy uttered softly, “Something bad might happen if I kiss you, but I-"

The rest of the statement became lodged in the dark-haired girl's throat. Ivy clawed at the blonde's shirt, her fingers clenching around the fabric. The brunette's grip was tight enough to whiten her knuckles. Nose contorting up in anger, eyes pooling over with unshed tears. Ivy was biting her lower lip, hoping that she could stop herself from crying.  
  
"But I really, _really_ want to kiss you." Ivy croaked out, "I just c-can't."  
  
Slamming her head against Tilly’s chest, Ivy began sobbing. Even as her hands grew sweaty, the brunette refused to loosen her hold on Tilly's blouse, she simply tugged at the garment. Breathing becoming more erratic, Ivy nuzzled her face into the taller girl's collarbone.  
  
After taking a moment to process Ivy's emotional outburst, Tilly wrapped her arms around the shorter girl. She didn't know what to do. Her main concern was figuring out a way of making Ivy feel better, to alleviate the brunette's torment somehow.  
  
"I don't know what to do Ivy." Tilly admitted, "Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."  
  
Ivy turned her head to the side, panting for air. She pressed her cheek on top of Tilly's left breast, listening to the blonde's melodic heartbeat. Ivy repositioned herself beneath the taller girl's chin, relishing how good it felt to be in Tilly's arms.  
  
"Just hold me." Ivy mumbled, closing her eyes, "Please."  
  
One arm tightened around the brunette's waist, Tilly buried her other hand into a bundle of raven curls. She complied with Ivy's request, gently stroking the smaller girl's scalp and rubbing soothing circles on her lower back. Tilly desperately wanted to quench the conflict brewing within Ivy, to destroy whatever was inhibiting them from being able to kiss.  
  
"For as long as you want me to, Ivy." Tilly cooed into Ivy's ear, "For as long as you want."  
  
Standing on the rooftop of a deserted building, a realization dawned upon Tilly. She was willing to do anything for the girl in her arms. Lie. Steal. Cheat. If the brunette only asked, Tilly would go to unprecedented lengths for her. If Ivy wanted her to, the blonde would attempt to wrestle a crocodile with her bare hands or walk along a tightrope wearing a blindfold. This set of alarming thoughts led to an obvious conclusion; Tilly was undoubtedly in _love_ with Ivy Belfrey.


	13. Champagne Glasses

Chapter 13

Champagne Glasses

* * *

 

In a world where the existence of true love is almost a proven fact, some people spend a lifetime searching for the other half of their soul. More privileged individuals are able to contrive elaborate schemes in order to find their fated match.  
  
It has been customary for a wealthy aristocrat to hold a ball when he, _or she_ , yearns to find his, _or her_ , predestined lover. A plan that seems simple in its conception, the young socialite throws a lavish party and invites every eligible suitor or maiden living in the surrounding domains. The one person who was meant to be their true love would likely be in attendance. As archaic as it sounded, the old-fashioned tradition was known to procure favorable results.  
  
Drizella was thrilled when she received an invitation to a royal ball. The elitist affair was being sponsored by the monarchy, a social gathering intended to aide the prince with his pursuit of a suitable bride. Although the idea of marrying a handsome, young man was already enticing enough, Drizella also longed for a chance to leave the Tremaine Manor, to start a new life somewhere else.  
  
After Marcus Tremaine's mysterious death, his wife's ambition took over the household. Rapunzel, who refused to be called anything other than Lady Tremaine, had become a vile mistress. She overworked the servants, forcing them to do frivolous tasks such as repainting walls or repositioning pieces of furniture on a whim, labor that held no true purpose except establishing how strict the blue-eyed woman could be.   
  
Demoted to the level of a house staff member, Ella was ostracized by her stepmother. She often had to work alongside the servants, being forced to clean the stables or tend to the livestock. It was apparent to anyone that the reason why Lady Tremaine's hatred for Ella began intensifying as the years went by was simply because the young girl had become the mirror image of Cecelia, the woman who stole Marcus Tremaine's heart. A luscious mane of dark curls and a pair of piercing brown eyes, complementary gorgeous olive skin, Ella resembled her mother more and more each day.  
  
While her status as Lady Tremaine's only living daughter protected Drizella from being viciously abused, the brunette's living conditions were far less than ideal. Her mother never refrained from reminding Drizella that she could never fill Anastasia's place. A tidal wave of verbal insults, every single thing that Drizella did was meaningless in Lady Tremaine's eyes. The poor girl's only true crime was not being her sister. Deep within the confines of her heart, Drizella knew that the shrewd woman would sacrifice her youngest daughter's life in exchange for reviving Anastasia.   
  
Drizella's hopes rested on being the prince's soulmate, or at least making him believe that she was. The art of seduction had always been a vulgar notion for her, but desperation often changes a person's moral code. With wavy raven tresses, a set of auburn irises, Drizella had grown into a beautiful young woman, even if her mother never offered a compliment to support the argument.  
  
Entering the ballroom at the royal palace was a breathtaking experience. The ceiling had been laced with twinkling lights, dangling from the chandeliers like a luminous spider-web, fabricating the illusion that it was star-spotted. Emerald-green garlands elegantly hanging from the walls, roses attached to each segment. Several waiters and waitresses were positioned across the ballroom, equipped with trays of scrumptious treats and cold beverages.  
  
Wearing a glittery lavender gown embroidered with zirconia gems, Drizella had never looked better. Hair tied up in a fashionable mold, mouth colored in a deep shade of burgundy to emphasize her plump lips, she strapped on a corset tight enough to highlight the slenderness of her waist. Struggling to breath, Drizella thought it was a small price to pay for beauty.

"Would you do me the honor of joining me for a dance?" Drizella spun around to face whomever was addressing her.

A brown-haired young man approached Drizella, suited in dashing regal attire. He bowed down, extending his hand out graciously. Smiling widely, the enthusiastic noble realized that offering an introduction would be proper etiquette.  
  
"I'm Prince Gregor." A kiss was placed on Drizella's hand, "And you are?"  
  
Prince Gregor, the youngest heir to the throne. He was as handsome as his elder brother. Although marrying him wouldn't make Drizella a future queen, she could at least be freed of her mother's influence.  
  
"Lady Drizella Tremaine, your grace." The brunette performed a proper curtsy, "And I'll be honored to dance with you."  
  
"Splendid." Prince Gregor beamed, "May I?"  
  
Attaining a nod of consent from Drizella, the prince took her hand, and led the dark-haired girl onto the dance floor. He stared firmly into her auburn eyes, with the rare mix of anxiety and confidence. Wrapping his right arm on the brunette’s lower back, his left hand interlocked with Drizella's fingers. Her right hand was perched on Prince Gregor's left shoulder, and with the hold complete, both began a slow waltz, taking a sideways step to initiate the routine.  
  
With chivalry and elegance, Prince Gregor led them, twirling Drizella round, even dipping her playfully a few times. The brunette laughed and relinquished control of the dance, allowing the charming young man to set the tempo. He was impressed with how easily she could follow his moves.   
  
Other attendees danced along with them, a few couples that wanted to survey Prince Gregor’s pretty partner. He was too engrossed in Drizella to notice the inquisitive glances thrown at them, and she could care less about anyone's opinion of her.  
  
Drizella had always dreamed of her first dance being magical, but while Prince Gregor was magnetic and good-looking, the brunette's heart failed to skip a beat whenever he gazed at her. Drizella had thought that her stomach would flutter with butterflies, but the only thing affecting the dark-haired girl was her corset. The binding garment kept making it difficult for her lungs to inhale.  
  
"Pardon me, your grace. I n-need a moment." Drizella gave Prince Gregor a strained smile as she excused herself.  
  
Stumbling toward an isolated back area, Drizella panted as she pressed her hand on a nearby pillar for support. Servants scurried pass her, heading to the kitchen for more refreshments.

Gasping for air, the raven-haired girl felt dizzy and lightheaded. The corset was fastened too stiffly, and dancing had worsen the tightness of the harness. Her chest heaved up and down as she attempted to breathe.

"Hold this for me." A blithe voice called out to Drizella as a tray full of champagne glasses was shoved into the brunette's arms.  
  
Drizella felt hands slip under the bodice of her dress from behind, someone's soft fingers began pulling at the corset's laces. A relieved sigh escaped the dark-haired girl's lips when the strappings were loosened, permitting her body's respiratory process to resume without constraints.   
  
"There you go." The unseen female chirped, placing a hand on Drizella's shoulder to tug her around.  
  
The brunette found herself staring directly into two sparkling cerulean eyes, belonging to a young woman about Drizella's age. Based on her attire, she appeared to be a servant, dressed in the uniform of a waitress. Unruly golden curls held back with a ribbon, a white apron lashed on the girl's front. The blonde's face wore a confident expression that didn't seem fitting for someone of her low social stature.  
  
"How _dare_ you lay a hand on a lady without her permission?" Drizella snapped, reverting to the snobbish caricature that her mother had created.   
  
"Whoa, calm down. Don't get your knickers in a twist." The blonde quipped, "It was just pretty sad to see you gulping for oxygen like a bloody fish out of water."  
  
With an amused grin, the golden-haired girl retrieved her tray from Drizella's hands. She giggled at the bewildered look on the brunette's face. It was obvious to the blonde that Drizella had never been challenged by anyone in her life.

"Well, I'd offer you a glass of champagne..." The whimsical girl winked at Drizella, "But you have a prince to get back to and this champagne is not quite up to your standards."  
  
Bobbing her head comically at Drizella, the mysterious young woman sauntered off. Mouth agape with indignation, the brunette watched as the golden-haired girl disappeared into a crowd of attendees. Drizella noticed that she hadn't learned the rude blonde's name.  
  
Truth be told, Drizella wasn't even sure why the blue-eyed servant agitated her so much. The facts were disturbing, when the blonde's fingers brushed against her skin, it had elicited an odd sensation. A fluttering in Drizella's stomach, a palpitation in her heart. All the emotions that Prince Gregor had failed to stir within Drizella during the entirety of their dance, the golden-haired girl had successfully drawn out from her in just a matter of seconds.  

* * *

Soft music resonated against the walls of Roni's, songs emitted from a jukebox that kept being fed quarters. The dim lighting of the establishment shined upon the few patrons remaining at that late hour. Several shot glasses were lined up across the mahogany surface of the bar.  
  
Running a hand through golden curls, Tilly laid her head on the bar counter, slouching against a stool. The effects of all the alcoholic beverages that she had consumed were starting to take a toll. Losing track of time, the blonde vaguely remembered escorting Ivy to her extravagant apartment building. Tilly must have stumbled into the pub, hoping that liquor could help her process what had transpired.  
  
Whiskey. Tequila. Vodka. None of them unlocked the reason why Ivy had been so petrified by the thought of kissing her. Tilly kept drinking, acting as if the next sip was going to magically bestow her with a solution. At least when the blonde assumed that her feelings for Ivy were unrequited, she was the only one suffering. The knowledge that some unfathomable force tormented the raven-haired girl made Tilly feel worse than she ever had before.  
  
It was a conundrum that Tilly didn't understand at all. If Ivy were heterosexual, she simply would have rebuffed the blonde's advances, but that's not what happened. Ivy wanted to kiss her, a fact that caused a dopey grin to manifest itself on the golden-haired girl's face. Yet, something impeded the brunette from succumbing to her desires, a notion that twisted Tilly's mouth into a frown.  
  
"I think that you've had enough."   
  
A stern voice addressed Tilly, prompting the blonde to lift her head from off the bar counter. Using both elbows to prop herself up, through squinted eyes, Tilly saw a beautiful, dark-haired woman staring back at her. She must missed the instant when the bartenders switched shifts, because this stunning brunette was definitely not her original attendant.  
  
"Where's R-Remy?" Tilly slurred her words, "W-Who are you?"  
  
Remy, the usual bartender. A mousy man, who never refused to pour Tilly a drink. It often seemed as if he were the only employee, since Remy also worked as a food server, bringing meals and beverages to the dining area.  
  
"He went home. Do you even _know_ what time it is?" The woman crossed her arms, "I'm Roni, and I own this pub."  
  
Roni, the proprietor of the eponymous bar, was far from what Tilly expected. A gorgeous woman, who looked a bit too elegant to own such a shabby establishment.    
  
"I'm guessing that it's late enough for the owner of the bar to kick me out." Tilly yawned, head drooping to the side.  
  
"Correct." Roni began collecting all of the empty shot glasses surrounding Tilly, "But it's _so_ late that you can just sleep here for the night."  
  
"No, I'm f-fine." Tilly stuttered as she hopped off from the stool.  
  
The blonde stood on wobbly legs, unable to keep her balance. Tilly’s vision was foggy. In retrospect, mixing a cocktail of vodka and whiskey had been an awful idea.  
  
"Yeah, I can _clearly_ see that." Roni huffed.

Despite her sarcastic remark, the brunette glanced at Tilly with sympathy in her dark eyes. Roni's expression softened, and she walked around the bar counter to help the younger girl. The slightly shorter woman threw an arm around the blonde's waist, steadying her feet to the ground.  
  
"T-Thanks." Tilly leaned against Roni, "I'm sorry for being such a mess."  
  
"It's alright. It was entertaining to see you mix champagne with an orange carbonated beverage and call them a happily married couple." Roni smiled as she recalled the incident.  
  
It had made perfect sense to Tilly at the time. The zesty flavor of the orange carbonated beverage was fun-loving and carefree, a perfect complement to the refined taste of the pretentious champagne.  
  
"But you really shouldn't make a habit of this." Roni reprimanded.  
  
"Of course not." Tilly shook her head, "I think that's the definition of _alcoholism_."  
  
"You're a clever one." Roni let out an amused chuckle, "Which is why you should stop wasting time here and go talk to your _girl_."  
  
The dark-haired woman guided Tilly toward a dining booth, setting her down on a bench. Through half-lidded eyes, the blonde could see Roni heading back to the bar counter. Leaning over the mahogany surface, the brunette retrieved a blanket.  
  
"How do you know that there's a g-girl involved?" Tilly mumbled.  
  
"You started crying when the song _Uptown Girl_ by Billy Joel came on." Roni laughed, "You claimed that the lyrics related perfectly to your current situation. It was all quite a spectacle."  
  
With a groan, Tilly buried her face into the chair's cushion. Head throbbing with pain, listening to Roni recount her drunken exploits was only making the blue-eyed girl feel worse. It appeared that the older woman had sensed her discomfort, and refrained from further teasing the blonde.  
  
"First thing in the morning, go tell that girl how much you care." Roni murmured as she covered the golden-haired girl with a blanket, "Your liver will be grateful."  
  
A warm hand patted her shoulder gently, Tilly could barely distinguish the outline of Roni's face. Cerulean eyes fluttering shut, the blonde grinned to herself, admiring the similarities between Ivy and the dark-haired bar owner. Short, raven curls. A pair of wise auburn irises. An arrogant, but caring demeanor. Plump, soft lips.  
  
Tilly snuggled into the fuzzy, cotton sheet. The sound of retreating footsteps was the last thing that the blonde heard before the lights were turned off. A migraine pulsated through Tilly's head, but her mind lingered on thoughts of Ivy. Pink-tinted cheeks. A cute, smooth nose. Porcelain skin. Listing Ivy's physical features was more soothing than music. Determined. Strong. Compassionate. Witty. Caring. Reciting all of Ivy's intangible attributes became a lullaby, one that put a smile on Tilly's face before luring her off to sleep.


	14. Chess Pieces

Chapter 14

Chess Pieces

* * *

 

Shattered glass, the remnants of broken chandeliers were scattered across the ground. Long curtains of tapestry ripped to shreds. A flurry of screams and gasps echoed through the corridors. Boots stomping against the marble surface of the ballroom floor. The sharp clinking sound of swords coming into contact with one another, clashing in battle.   
  
Only Lady Tremaine could manage to turn a peaceful social dance into a  _coup d’état_ , a vicious scheme to overthrow the monarchy. At the royal ball, the sinister woman had stolen a magic wand from a fairy godmother, and then she abruptly murdered the heir to the throne in cold-blood, framing Ella for his homicide. It was a relatively easy task, since the dark-haired girl was known for being outspoken about her theory that the prince was responsible for Marcus Tremaine's death. From a practical viewpoint, Ella had a clear motive, one that solidified her guilt.

The devoted guards were charging after Ella, and with a sword in one hand, she fended them off skillfully. Her beloved stepfather had taught the brunette how to use a blade, much to Drizella’s eternal envy. Marcus Tremaine didn’t bother to hand down any useful knowledge to his own daughter, always preferring to coddle Ella instead.

King. Bishops. Pawns. A perfectly executed chess game. Prince Gregor would inherit the kingdom, with Drizella as his queen. Checkmate. Lady Tremaine was winning. She had planned exactly how events would unfold during the evening, down to every single detail, all except for one; Ella had found her true love earlier that night.  
  
Henry Mills, a handsome brown-haired man. An intrepid adventurer with no social standing, but possessing some odd form of magic. He defended Ella against a few palace guards, allowing the brunette to escape on his strange metallic horse, or  _motorcycle_  as Henry liked to call the large foreign device. To his great misfortune, Lady Tremaine had acquired the aide of the royal cavalry, capturing him before he could rejoin Ella.  
  
A secluded cabin in the middle of the forest served as the perfect prison, Lady Tremaine held Henry as her hostage. A couple of palace guards accompanied the woman, with Drizella playing the role of dutiful daughter, forced to stand by her mother's side.  
  
Lady Tremaine knew that true love was a problem. Not even her magic wand could overcome the threat that such benevolent power posed. She questioned him on Ella's whereabouts, but he wasn't inclined to answer. The clever woman wanted to obtain an item that belonged to her stepdaughter, in order to perform a simple tracking spell with the magic wand. Henry refused to relinquish such an object, Ella’s misplaced crystal slipper.  
  
With a smirk, Lady Tremaine told Drizella to kill Henry, an order that the dark-haired girl felt hesitant to comply with. Her mother exited the cabin; a few guards remained by the door. The wooden floor creaked as Drizella approached Henry, a dagger in her hand. The brave young man would gladly die for Ella. It wasn't fair. Anastasia. Marcus. Henry. So many people were willing to die for her stepsister. Jealousy took a hold of Drizella's heart. She could only rely on her mother, the despotic woman who had instructed Drizella to commit murder. No decent parent should ever ask such a macabre request of their child. Drizella's resolve wavered during a brief instant, but it was long enough for Henry to get rescued by several of his companions.   
  
A dark-haired man with scruffy facial hair broke through the door, a hook substituted for one hand, but a saber held firmly in the other. He defeated the palace guards within seconds, exhibiting mastery for swordplay despite his missing limb.   
  
"Get away from him, now!" The bearded man bellowed, his cerulean eyes seemed familiar for a moment.  
  
"And who are you?" Drizella yelled, gripping the dagger.  
  
Behind the man with a hook, a dark-haired woman took a step forward. She was furious, snarling through gritted teeth. A formidable sorceress, with a wave of her hand, Drizella felt an invisible force press against her stomach.  
  
"I'm his mother!" The last words Drizella heard before her world went black, a loud thud as she was slammed against a wall by a blast of magic.  
  
Hours passed by. Slouched on the floor. Pain, a throbbing ache in her back. When Drizella awoke, she was still in the cabin. Cold. Disoriented. Alone. Henry had left, rescued by his mother, with the aide of a trusted blue-eyed friend, on the path back to Ella. True love could conquer all.

Lady Tremaine hadn't bothered to send anyone to tend to Drizella's injuries; she couldn't care less about her daughter. A saddening epiphany; the dark-haired girl didn't have a parent who would move heaven and earth for her, she lacked any sort of faithful companionship, and based on Prince Gregor's case of vapid infatuation, Drizella had no hope for _true_ love.  
  
From the looks of her current predicament, Drizella was just another one of Lady Tremaine's dispensable followers, an insignificant minion. If the brunette wasn't cautious, she ran the risk of becoming her mother's sacrificial lamb. With a newfound perspective, Drizella knew that she must liberate herself from the clutches of Lady Tremaine's control, to seek a new life elsewhere, no matter what the cost.

* * *

Chess is a popular strategy board game involving two players. Pieces are arranged on a mat that has been divided into sixty-four square areas of alternating colors; black and white. One king, one queen, two rooks, two knights, two bishops, and eight pawns. Each type of figure piece moves differently, with the most versatile being the queen. Throughout the ages, people from all over the world have enjoyed partaking in chess matches.  
  
Many suburban towns and cities have chess tables in their parks, four-legged contraptions built to accommodate a visitor's desire to play the game. The surface top has the board with the sixty-four sections painted on. Two drawers are often provided to hold the pieces when not in use. Although it is simply a decorative structure to some places, chess tables are meant to be used by a pair of people who want to engage in a friendly match.  
  
To the same degree as most neighborhoods in the city of Seattle, Hyperion Heights had a beautiful modern park, a recreational place equipped with features catering to a wide range of activities. Located in an urban district, cement tiles laid in place grass, and instead of trees, concrete pillars towered around the rest areas that were full of picnic tables. A few flower bushes decorated the area, enough to attract an assortment of polychromatic butterflies.   
  
Near the playground, a section was reserved for chess tables, surrounded by ceramic pots filled with petunias and lilacs. Harmless honeybees buzzed throughout the purple and magenta petals, a calming ambient noise. Not a lot of people care to play chess during their weekend outings, leaving the area quite barren. Although the empty rooftops of isolated buildings were peaceful enough for a nap, Tilly frequently went to the park when she needed a quiet place to think.  
  
Sitting at a chess table, the blonde had been engaging in a game with herself, hoping that by the end of the match, she would have found a resolution to her problems. Rooks. Knights. Queen. Tilly's favorite pieces. Her hand moved across the mat, sliding an onyx rook into position. White was losing. Crossing her legs on top of the bench, Tilly calculated her next play. She reclined forward, propping herself on a bended elbow, head resting on a palm. Her other hand toyed with the alabaster knight. Tilly was having trouble procuring an defensive strategy that could be efficient against black's offense.   
  
"Oh, there you are." Ivy's voice resonated through the deserted grounds.  
  
A tight skirt that barely covered half her thighs, a silk scarf tied around the neck, a form-fitting blouse laid under a cashmere blazer, the brunette wore a pair of short, leather boots to complete the outfit. Ivy had a tendency of looking severely overdressed, a trait that Tilly might have found snobbish if she didn't absolutely _adore_ the raven-haired girl. The corners of her mouth quirked upward into a full smile as she appraised Ivy, wondering how it was even feasible for someone to be so unbearably gorgeous.  
  
"Here I am." Tilly grinned, she gestured to the vacant seat in front of her, “Do you want to play?"  
  
"Oh. _Chess_." Ivy stated through gritted teeth, glancing at the mat, "I don't really like chess."  
  
Tilly's face dropped, as if she couldn't fathom the idea of a person disliking chess. Tilting her head in confusion, the blonde's cerulean eyes shined with empathy, perceiving a sentimental reason behind Ivy's disdain for the pleasant board game.  
  
"Why?" Tilly asked more bluntly than she had intended to.

Tilly sat up properly and scooted over, patting an empty spot on the bench for the dark-haired girl to sit. Much to the blonde's relief, Ivy accepted the offer, taking a seat beside her. One hand fidgeted with the strap of her handbag as she formulated a brief response that would satisfy Tilly's curiosity.  
  
"It's a barbaric notion, that some pieces hold more value than others. The king is completely useless." Ivy explained, "And yet, great players sacrifice their best piece, the queen, to protect the coveted king. It's stupid and unfair."  
  
With a wistful sigh, Ivy ran her hand across the chessboard. Absentmindedly brushing her fingertips against each piece, the brunette lingered on the onyx queen. Focusing on the square mat, Ivy's mind was elsewhere, lost within a faint memory.   
  
Reaching out, Tilly glided her palm on top of Ivy's hand; the blonde's fingers gently caressed the other girl's knuckles, alleviating the tension. Ivy shifted her gaze from the chessboard to Tilly's sparkling blue irises.  
  
"It depends on who you play with." Tilly smiled as she interlaced their fingers together, "I'd _never_ sacrifice my queen. She’s my favorite piece."  
  
"And if it's the best move for you?" Ivy's dark eyes challenged Tilly, "What if the only way to win the game would be by sacrificing your queen?"  
  
"Then I rather lose." Tilly replied sincerely, looking back at Ivy with an unwavering stare.  
  
"You're being ridiculous." Ivy muttered with a lopsided grin.  
  
Shaking her head from side to side, the brunette let out a chuckle. She stroked the back of Tilly's hand with her thumb, smiling warmly at the blonde. Ivy's cheeks began to reddened, but she didn't seem to care. The blush spread out across her skin unapologetically.  
  
"I am not!" Tilly quipped with conviction, "What's the point of winning if you don't have your queen?"  
  
Untangling her fingers from the brunette's own, Tilly noticed how the action caused a glint of disappointment to flicker across Ivy's expression. Tilly slid closer to the raven-haired girl, until their knees were touching. Her arm encircled Ivy's shoulders, coming around to settle on the chessboard.  
  
Grabbing a hold of the alabaster bishop, Tilly leaned forward. Raven curls tickled the taller girl's face as a result of her near proximity to Ivy. The blonde moved the piece across the mat to a specific square, shielding its king from a vertical attack by the opposing onyx rook, but leaving a diagonal opening.   
  
"Wait, if you move there, then black wins." Ivy pointed at the onyx queen who clearly posed a threat to the alabaster king.  
  
"I thought that you didn't like chess?" Tilly lifted an eyebrow in confusion.  
  
"I don't, but I _do_ know how to play." Ivy smirked smugly.  
  
Tilly laughed heartily, amused by Ivy's haughty tone. She perched her hand on the brunette's arm, bestowing a tender squeeze for encouragement. Tilly repositioned herself, audacious enough to snuggle into the smaller girl. She was amazed at how perfectly both of their bodies molded together, similar to an interlocking jigsaw puzzle. Ivy didn't push her back, and Tilly consisdered that a relatively good sign.  
  
"Then make the winning play." Tilly murmured softly, pressing against Ivy.  
  
The dark-haired girl kept her vision directed at the chessboard, trying to ignore how Tilly's chin had settled on top of her shoulder. Hand clenching around the onyx queen, Ivy brought the figurine up to the alabaster king. With her index finger and thumb, she flicked the white piece down, symbolizing the end of the match.   
  
"Checkmate." Ivy announced with pride, turning her head to look at Tilly.  
  
"You win." Tilly declared, grinning sheepishly.  
  
The blonde's fingers reached out to seize a loose strand of hair, tucking the ebony lock behind Ivy's ear. Auburn irises glimmered under the fading sunlight, reflecting a radiant shade of amber, bewitching Tilly like an incantation. Ivy bit her lip nervously, fearing that Tilly would lunge forward without hesitation and initiate a kiss.

A frigid breeze blowing throughout the park. Insects humming among the flowers. Everything was melting away as Tilly slid her hand down to tenderly hold the brunette's chin between her knuckles and thumb. Children's laughter coming from the playground. Birds fluttering across the darkening sky. Ivy's mind couldn't concentrate on anything other than Tilly's lips.  
  
"It's getting late." Tilly cleared her throat, dropping her hand and slouching back.  
  
Snapping out of a trance, Ivy wasn't sure if she felt relieved or disillusioned. Through parted lips, the brunette released a contemplative sigh. While Ivy knew that she should be grateful to Tilly for diffusing the moment, she couldn't help but wonder if the blonde had started growing tired of her seemingly indecisive nature.   
  
Tilly hopped off from the bench, cracking her fingers as she stretched, her joints were stiff after being seated for most of the day. The blonde glanced at Ivy's neck, realizing that the young woman's scarf was now crooked. Bowing down in front of the brunette, she realigned the fabric. Oblivious to the conflict brewing inside of Ivy's head, Tilly grinned at the dark-haired girl when she finished her adjustment.  
  
"Want me to walk you home?" Tilly suggested enthusiastically, hands reaching beside the bench to retrieve her backpack from off the ground.  
  
"No- I mean, yes." Ivy stood up abruptly, "I mean, would you like to come home with me? It's Saturday, and we can watch some idiotic movie on television. My mother won't be home. I'll order a pizza, you know, full of carbohydrates and grease, and as fattening as you like-"  
  
Noting that the dark-haired was rambling, Tilly pressed a finger to Ivy's lips. She effectively stopped the unnecessary words that were tumbling out of the brunette’s mouth. The other hand fidgeted anxiously with her backpack's strap, she was already excited at the prospect of going to Ivy's apartment.  
  
"I don't need that much convincing, Ivy." Tilly giggled, dropping her hand from Ivy's mouth, "I love spending time with you."  
  
In a cavalier manner, Tilly presented her arm to the brunette, as if she were a dashing knight asking to escort a lovely maiden. A silly gesture, but Ivy took a hold of the graciously offered appendage and allowed the golden-haired girl to lead her out of the premises. With the sun setting into the west horizon, most people had already left the park.  
  
Skipping along the pavement, Tilly had memorized the way to Ivy's loft, which was odd because the blonde could barely remember her surname. With the impeding nightfall as their cue, lamp posts began to flicker on.     
  
Grey clouds loomed in the sky. Resting her head on Tilly's shoulder, the brunette trudged alongside. The bright rays from the moon above managed to reach the sidewalk, coloring the cement with a dull silver tone. It cast menacing shadows on the adjacent alleyways, but Ivy was unafraid. She felt safe with Tilly. As long as the blonde held her hand, Ivy didn't have to worry about braving the darkness alone.


	15. Pizza Toppings

Chapter 15

Pizza Toppings

* * *

 

Disillusionment. The feeling of being disappointed from the discovery that something is not as good as one believed it to be. It hardens the heart and blackens the mind, converging to chip away at an individual's spirit. Losing hope leaves a noticeable dent on a person's soul, changing their perspective, transforming gleeful idealism into its cynical counterpart.

After suffering years of abuse at her mother's hands, Drizella didn't think that anything else could disenchant her. It was time to escape. She packed a few items in a bag, threw on her cloak, and slipped out of the Tremaine Manor in the middle of the night. With no destination in mind, Drizella moved as fast as she could, hoping to put a significant amount of distance between herself and Lady Tremaine. Out of cruel spite rather than from maternal affection, the ruthless woman would stop at nothing to track her daughter down. Drizella needed to be far away before the servants realize that she had gone missing.

Surrounded by a meadow filled with unassuming flowers and fields of wild grass, the terrain encasing the estate was vast and spacious. The moon gazed on downward, having witnessed many nefarious schemes and scandalous affairs, hearing the whispered dreams of those who had their hearts set on escaping from that isolated land.

Forests on the outskirts of the Tremaine Manor were dangerous and full of vicious creatures, a place that could only be considered a sanctuary for desperate people who would risk anything in order to remain hidden. With the tall evergreen trees providing cover, Drizella didn't think twice as she scurried through the desolate woods.

Dark clouds loomed in the sky. Within seconds, rain fell down, cold and dreary. Drizella trudged along, boots squelching obscenely in the mud each time that she lifted her foot. There was no turning back, she needed to keep moving forward. Lady Tremaine had a magic wand, which could procure supernatural ways of finding Drizella.

Wiping water from off her forehead, Drizella almost tripped over an uplifted root. Brushing against low branches and bumping into dried trunks, cuts and bruises adorned her body. Despite the awful weather and the overwhelming darkness, she must continue onward. Lady Tremaine had too many resources at her disposal, even if she didn't use a spell to locate Drizella, the deceptive woman could manipulate the royal guards into performing an urgent search for Prince Gregor's future bride. The brunette had no desire to marry for convenience, against all odds, she yearned to find someone who could truly love her.

"It's now or never." Drizella whispered out loud, grasping the neckline of her cloak. 

Hours and hours of running, the brunette found herself stumbling through a clearing. The scenery was decorated with flora, scattered petunias and roses grew all over the sequestered area. A crumbling tower stood before her, brimming with loosen bricks, windows reduced to piles of shattered glass. Although the building was in shambles, its main structure seemed to hold up strongly. The rooftop was in alignment with the cylindrical wall. It appeared stable enough to serve as a temporary refuge.

A sudden warm breeze filled the atmosphere, and Drizella took that as a sign to stay. Navigating across the scattered garbage, abandoned chests, ripped cushions, and the broken spinning wheels, the brunette found an opening at the edifice's rear section. Slipping through the large crack, Drizella sat down on the stone floor, grateful to be sheltered from the rain.

It was evident that this tower had been someone else's living quarters, personal belongings and household furniture littered the abandoned grounds. Her eyes inspected the area around her, spotting a discarded chessboard nearby. Dust and grime covered the mat. Motivated by frivolous curiosity, Drizella counted the playing pieces. Reaching down, the brunette grabbed the queen, made of gorgeous obelisk stone, cradling the chess piece in her palms. A black rook and a white knight were missing. How _strange_ , for a person to keep those specific figurines and leave everything else behind.

Wrapping the cloak tightly around her shoulders, Drizella slumped against the stone wall of the deteriorated tower. She stared at the leaky ceiling. With eyelids fluttering shut, the dark-haired girl gave into her exhaustion. Drizella fell asleep among the ruins of an unknown person's modest home, fingers clutching a tiny figurine, feeling more at peace than she ever had under the roof of her mother's wealthy estate.

* * *

It was an eerily dark night, and since the skies were pitch-black, a couple of sparkling stars could be seen through the window. The view from the large apartment building was magnificent, a wide panoramic landscape of tall skyscrapers. Lights illuminated the city, giving the cluster of edifices an iridescent glow.

Inside the spacious loft, only a few lamps were turned on. The living room, a huge couch rested in front of a deluxe television, with a rosewood center table positioned between them. The dim lighting permitted the extravagant machine to display crisp and visible images on its screen. There were no photo frames or meaningful objects perching on top of the surrounding furniture, the adornments were simplistic and generic. 

Tilly allowed her eyes to analyze Ivy's residence in a way that she had failed to do so before. Surveying the apartment's layout, the blonde hoped to find something that could give her a better idea of what was going on in Ivy's mind. It was so _strange_ , for the brunette to not at least have a portrait of Cecelia, the woman who had been like a mother to her, or maybe own some sentimental memento of her deceased sister. The shelves were mostly empty, holding only a few artistic bowls and vases, items that had obviously been included with the loft.

Discouraged by the hollowness of Ivy's interior decoration, Tilly flounced onto the couch. She slouched her head against the armrest, laying on the sofa and staring at the ceiling. Ivy should be returning soon, having gone downstairs to greet the pizza deliveryman at the lobby. The brunette wouldn't enjoy coming back to find Tilly snooping around her residence.

A perceptible scent of tomato sauce and warm bread, the smell wafted throughout the apartment. Tilly quickly sat up, turning around to see Ivy standing by the doorway, juggling several boxes of pizza in her arms. The blonde hopped over the couch, rushing to assist the dark-haired girl.

"Whoa, let me help." Tilly grabbed most of the pizza boxes, leaving only one in Ivy's hands, "Thank god that you aren't wearing one of your usual posh outfits."

"I wasn't about to handle greasy food with a blouse made of Egyptian cotton." Ivy stated.

The brunette had changed into a vermilion turtle-neck sweater, and a pair of beige leggings. Ivy still looked better dressed than most people did on a regular basis. The only true distinction in her current appearance was that she had washed her face, freeing the porcelain skin from an array of cosmetics. There was nothing that Tilly considered more captivatingly gorgeous than the sight of Ivy without any make-up. 

"Of course not, I mean, it's _Egyptian_ cotton." Tilly joked, carrying the pizza boxes into the living room.

"It's rude to tease your hostess." Ivy scoffed with mock indignation.

Placing a pizza box on the center table, Ivy motioned for the blonde to do the same. Each rectangle container was settled over one another, a short tower of oily cardboard. As Ivy crossed her arms, she pensively stared at the stack.

After a few seconds, Ivy's hand began to reach out. Grabbing a hold of a tiny flap on the first pizza box between her index finger and thumb, the brunette lifted the lid off. Ivy appraised the oily saucer, tilting her head as if she were trying to figure something out.

"Do you need utensils to eat _this_?" Ivy asked.

"Wait, you've never eaten pizza before-" Tilly paused when she saw Ivy glaring at her, "Of course. You don't eat carbs now, but what about when you were little and-"

"My mother wouldn't let me have any." Ivy interjected with a nonchalant shrug.

"Right." Tilly clicked her tongue, "Well, you don't need anything. Just a napkin."

"You mean to tell me that people eat this with their _bare_ hands?" Ivy pressed a palm to her chest, appalled by the mere notion.

"Oh boy." Tilly shook her head, chuckling loudly.

Nose wrinkling in disgust at the idea of grabbing a slice of pizza with her hands. Reddening cheeks indicated embarrassment, annoyed by the blonde's laughter. Tapping her left foot with frustration. Tilly's heart skipped a beat, lovingly admiring all of Ivy's quirky mannerisms.

"Just come here and sit down." Tilly gestured toward a spot beside her, "I'll be your pizza guru."

Ivy rolled her eyes, but relented a genuine smile. She settled on the edge of the sofa cushion, intently looking at the pizza. Melted cheese and thick tomato sauce splattered on a slab of flat bread. She honestly couldn't understand why people made such a fuss over this meal.

"I bought several kinds of pizza toppings. I didn't know which one you'd prefer." Ivy broke the silence.

"And you don't know which one _you_ prefer." Tilly flashed a knowing grin in Ivy's direction.

The blonde leaned toward the wooden center table, opening up each pizza box and spreading them out on the rosewood surface. Cheese. Pepperoni. Onions. Sausage. Green peppers. Pineapple. The pizzeria must have been thrilled to receive such a costly order. She decided on a slice of plain cheese pizza, opting to start with the basics.

"Try this one first." Tilly suggested, offering the piece to Ivy.

"Original flavor?" Ivy accepted the slice.

"Well, not exactly, but sure. Let's call it that." Tilly giggled.

Inspecting the triangle-shaped slab, Ivy hesitated for an instant before taking a small bite. Her auburn eyes widened, the brunette's face lit up with contentment. As Ivy chewed the portion of pizza, the corners of her mouth twitched upward into a smile. 

A person eating a slice of pizza for the first time shouldn't look so unbearably cute, but it took every ounce of Tilly's willpower to restrain herself from lunging forward and kissing the raven-haired girl senselessly. Her gaze kept wandering to Ivy's plump lips, the blonde's self-control was being tested.

A drop of tomato sauce trickled onto the brunette's chin. Tilly didn't even think twice about bringing her hand up to Ivy's jawline, wiping the offending red blotch with her thumb. She expected Ivy to flinch away, but the young woman simply ducked her head down bashfully.

"You're just too adorable." Tilly blurted out.

Brown eyes darted everywhere, avoiding the golden-haired girl's face. She tossed the uneaten pizza crust on the center table. Wiping her hands with a napkin, an odd emotion flickered across Ivy's irises. She seemed nervous about something.

"What's wrong?" Tilly scooted closer, placing a hand on Ivy's knee.

"Y-You..." Ivy was having trouble converting her thoughts into words, "You're nice."

"I'm nice?" Tilly scrunched her nose in confusion, "Wait, are you trying to _compliment_ me?"

"Nevermind." Ivy huffed, sticking her tongue out briefly at the blonde, "You're an idiot."

"Oh, am I?" Tilly lifted an eyebrow playfully.

"You are." Ivy teased.

Softly poking Ivy in the stomach, an involuntary shrill laugh escaped the brunette's lips. It was an overly animated reaction caused by such a gentle touch. Tilly grinned triumphantly, having discovered that Ivy appeared to be extremely ticklish.

"Am I _still_ an idiot?" Tilly challenged cheekily.

Positioning both arms to shield herself, Ivy shifted closer to the blonde. A provocative smirk started to form on the raven-haired girl's face, she leaned near Tilly.

" _Yes_." Ivy proclaimed defiantly, "You are."

Propelling herself forward, Tilly lunged out and began to mercilessly tickle the dark-haired girl. A slight brush from her fingertips was enough to elicit a chuckle from Ivy. Digging into the brunette's sides, Tilly maneuvered enough to reach a sensitive spot between Ivy's ribs. Laughter echoed through the living room as Ivy tried swatting away the blonde's invasive hands.

"Am I still an _idiot_?" Tilly giggled along with the brunette.

"Y-Yes." Ivy choked out, in between chuckles.

Carried away by excitement, Tilly pushed the smaller girl onto her back. Fingers coiled around Ivy's wrists, pinning them down on the cushion. Legs propped on either side of the brunette, Tilly found herself straddling Ivy, staring into a pair of gorgeous auburn irises, flecks of yellow surrounded the pupils, a feature only noticeable when the light hit her face at a particular angle. All laughter ceased, replaced with an enchanting type of anxiety.

For a few minutes, both young women were frozen, lost in each other's eyes, admiring the distinctive attributes on one another's face. Sharply intaking a breath, Ivy glanced at the blonde's lips, only mere centimeters away from her own. It would be so easy, to prop herself up and claim Tilly's mouth. Ivy knew exactly which unwanted consequences such an impulsive decision would produce, but the part of the dark-haired girl's soul that cared was having a difficult time compromising with her pounding heart.

Hovering over the brunette, the intimacy of their current position was terrifying to Tilly. She would never want to make the other girl uncomfortable, but her discipline had its limits, especially now when it seemed as if Ivy's aspirations were perfectly aligned with the blonde's own. Making an audible gulp, Tilly quickly retreated back. Ivy sat upright on the couch, clearing her throat.

"I'm sorry-"

"Sorry for-" Ivy interrupted Tilly's apology, causing both girls to chuckle lightly.

"Am I still an idiot?" Tilly muttered sheepishly.

"The _biggest_ idiot." Ivy smiled warmly.

The brunette extended her hand out, slowly tucking a loose wisp of golden hair behind Tilly's ear. An audacious gesture coming from Ivy, enough to make the blonde's heart thrash rapidly against her breastbone.

"So, which topping does my _wise_ pizza guru want me to try next?" Ivy quipped, nudging Tilly with her elbow.

Reverting to her blithe disposition, Tilly nodded eagerly and selected another slice of pizza. Pepperoni, a classic choice. Circular discs of cooked salami melted onto a cheesy surface, Ivy would appreciate the tinge of spices.

"Stage two, pepperoni." Tilly waved the slice in front of the brunette.

"I can't eat another entire slice." Ivy shook her head, "We are sharing these from now on."

Although the statement sounded more like an order than a request, Tilly knew that the brunette's domineering tone was just her coping mechanism, an attempt to regain composure after being sprawled out under another girl's body. Tilly happily obliged to the brunette's demand without complaining, falling into her own brand of blissful denial. By sharing pizza slices and comparing each type of topping, Ivy and Tilly attempted to keep their interactions platonic. 

Knees touching, sitting in close proximity, both young women focused on the assortment of toppings, giving the center table their undivided attention. Sausage, pieces of meat that tasted quite different from pepperoni. Green peppers, chunks of a fiery vegetable embedded onto the layer of cheese. Onions, barely visible on the surface, but with a distinguishable flavor. Pineapple, pieces of yellow tropical fruit laid among a terrain of mozzarella, Ivy needed a lot of coaxing to take a bite out of this pizza.

The underlying haze of tension dissipated, with the evening fading into a blur of laughter and smiles. Tilly wasn’t equipped to decipher the inner workings of the brunette's mind. Although she had an abnormally large capacity for perception, Tilly lacked the many years of wisdom required to understand why Ivy was struggling with her desires. There was something mysterious, maybe even dark, brewing beneath the surface of the raven-haired girl, and the blonde had no idea what the right thing to do about that was. Tilly had only been able to ascertain that she was in love with Ivy, and her pure sentiments would have to suffice.


	16. Cracks

Chapter 16

Cracks

* * *

 

Sunbeams shined through the cracks, slipping into the gaps on the fragmented wall. In the surrounding fields, water droplets glimmered over blades of grass, the residual rain that a storm had left behind after raging on during the night. From the tree branches, mockingbirds chirped a joyful melody, announcing the morning's importune arrival.

Warm light fell upon Drizella's face, stirring her awake. It took the brunette a moment to adjust to her new environment. The disoriented girl's back was sore from sleeping against a brick structure, a sharp contrast from the fluffy feather mattress that resided inside her bedroom back at the Tremaine Manor. Drizella had forgotten where she was for a second, staring at an unfamiliar stone ceiling.

Neglecting her duties to marry Prince Gregor. Refusing to play the role of obedient daughter. Escaping her mother's estate. Running through a forest for hours as heavy rain poured on down. Finding the abandoned tower. Thoughts kept flooding Drizella's mind like a colossal tidal wave washing over her, all converging into a single conclusion; Lady Tremaine must be stopped. The abhorrent woman would send people to find her, possibly even the royal guard. She depended on the union between Prince Gregor and Drizella, in order to control the throne through the young brunette.

Power. The ability to influence the behavior of people. Lady Tremaine's ambition was boundless, and Drizella could never break free from her mother's tyranny unless she acquired some type of leverage. Magic. The one advantage that Drizella had over the older woman. Coursing through her veins, the brunette had the capacity for performing spells. She needed to find a way to tap into her own potential.

Drizella stood up from the floor, eager to begin her quest. Surveying the remnants of the tower, the dark-haired girl realized that she might as well start her search there. Rummaging through the rubble, crates and treasure boxes were sprawled out on the ground. Drizella began inspecting the items, hoping to find a book or some parchment with information about magic. She had the aptitude for enchantments, raw power was buried deep within. The brunette only required proper guidance.

From her peripheral vision, Drizella focused on a discarded jewelry chest. Bowing down, the girl became intrigued. The exterior design of the coffer seemed old-fashioned, there was a possibility that it contained some ancient kind of magic. Opening the lid, Drizella was startled when a bunch of vines began to emerge from inside the small trunk.

Wrapping around the brunette, the thick roots ensnared her in a tight grasp. She tried to struggle against their hold, but the vines coiled across her body, latching on firmly to Drizella. Her arms were rendered immobile as one of the plant's branches transformed into a snapping jaw. The magical being appeared to be a gigantic Venus flytrap, a carnivorous abomination. Sharp teeth became visible, and Drizella couldn't find a way to loosen herself from the fiend's grip.

"Watch out!"

A female voice cried out, as a fireball smashed into the vicious creature's head. The huge monster had been slain, its veins releasing Drizella from their hold. The brunette was grateful that a powerful stranger had intervened to save her. With the cloak's hood lowered over her eyes, Drizella couldn’t see the courageous savior.

"You have to be careful about strange magic." The valiant woman reprimanded Drizella, "Are you alright?"

Lifting her gaze toward the heroine, Drizella's hood dropped down to her shoulders. The brunette's eyes widened, instantly recognizing the face of the woman who had rescued her from imminent death.

Regina Mills. The raven-haired woman that claimed to be Henry's mother. Her dark irises flickered with hate. She wore normal attire this time, a casual dress covered her body, robes appropriate for a female adventurer. Drizella remembered Regina's previous outfit, form-fitting pants with some kind of gorgeous, thin jacket that matched with her lower body apparel. Regina and Henry appeared to be from another realm, a universe that had more attractive clothes.

"Drizella." Regina growled, "I should have let that thing eat you. You tried to kill my son."

After fleeing from her mother, the young brunette didn't care to hear another woman's spiteful judgment. Drizella began to saunter away from Regina, focusing back to the task of finding magic that could defend her from Lady Tremaine's wrath. Many items still laid on the ground, one of them had to offer Drizella with magical assistance. A brass vase caught her attention from amongst the debris.

"On my mother's orders." Drizella admitted, "She doesn't take 'no' for an answer."

"Is that why you're here?" Regina remained suspicious.

"No, I am through with doing things for that woman." Drizella continued inspecting the piles of trash surrounding the tower, "I am here to find magic, to help me get free of her."

"But what are you talking about?" Regina persisted, "I thought you were marrying some prince."

Hearing Regina mention her upcoming wedding to Prince Gregor sent a shudder down Drizella's spine. Even if she could never get a chance to find true love, the brunette didn't want to settle for less.

"Do you honestly think that was my choice?" Drizella spat bitterly.

"Oh, I see." Regina's expression softened.

"The funny thing is I was born with magic, only mother never let me cultivate it, she knew I would only use it to escape from her." Drizella shrugged, eyes watering from frustration, "So if I can't use my own magic I will steal someone else's."

"Drizella, I know what it's like to live with such a controlling mother." Regina stated sympathetically, "Perhaps I can help."

"Really?" Drizella was not accustomed to receiving such kindness.

Regina gave her a smile, a genuine gesture of warmth. Drizella hadn't known how much her heart had been craving such affection until she listened to the despair in her own voice. Lady Tremaine had created a hole in Drizella, and though it may seem awfully pathetic, the young woman still longed for a mother figure.

"But you're not going to steal it." Regina scolded gently, "You are going to use a gift you were born with."

A large grin on her face, the brunette agreed with a nod. What an unimaginable turn of events, Drizella would now be Regina's devoted pupil. During the past several minutes, the older woman had shown her so much compassion and respect, attentively listening to the grievances of a lonely girl, and offering unconditional assistance. No one treated Drizella with such kindness. Anastasia. The memory of her beloved elder sibling, distorted by Lady Tremaine's obsession. Drizella could barely remember how it felt to be loved by her sister, but none of that mattered now.

An exciting sensation bubbled against the raven-haired girl's chest. Vowing to repay Regina for her encouragement, Drizella swore to become a worthy apprentice, a benevolent sorceress. Magic was locked away inside of Drizella, waiting to be unleashed. Under Regina's guidance, the brunette could harness that power to defeat her mother, halting all of the woman’s evil schemes. With a new sense of purpose, Drizella allowed herself to dream, to create idealistic expectations. A dangerous notion, for some cynics claim that hope breeds eternal misery.

* * *

Sauce stains. Grease blotches. Crumbs of bread. Pizza had an unfortunate array of side-effects. The center table was a mess, half-empty boxes littered the lacquered surface. Napkins were scattered across the floor, a disgusting sight. Morsels of food had seeped into the cracks between the sofa's cushions, the unavoidable result of eating on a couch. 

Tilly was not a psychiatrist, but watching her dark-haired companion scurry across the apartment, she deduced that Ivy suffered from some form of obsessive-compulsive disorder. The brunette had insisted on cleaning every square inch of the living room before proceeding to put on a movie. A random news channel played on the background as Ivy used paper towels to wipe down the rosewood center table.

After bombarding the raven-haired girl with an onslaught of tickles, Tilly knew that she was to blame for the many flakes of pizza crust found on the couch's upholstery. The blonde humored her hostess, combing through each cushion with her fingers, picking up food scraps and pizza fragments. Tilly had never been so dedicated to cleanliness, but she also didn't reside in such a luxurious loft.

Learning from Ivy’s good habits, Tilly stuffed the brunette's discarded paper towels into a garbage bag. She began aligning the boxes in a stack on top of the center table. Each rectangular container still had untouched slices of pizza, and the blonde hated to waste perfectly edible food. Ivy sensed the golden-haired girl's reluctance to throw away the leftovers, and went against her privileged inclination, allowing the remainder of their meal to stay on the rosewood surface. 

Although Tilly felt that the living room had been restored to its proper order, Ivy kept scrubbing the center table. It was cute, how the dark-haired girl's nose scrunched up when she focused on the task of sanitizing the rosewood surface. Mouth twisting into a warm smile, Tilly admired the brunette with a loving fondness. 

"I'm pretty sure that-" Tilly smirked, pointing at the spot that Ivy was wiping down, "That is not a stain, it's part of the wood pattern."

"Oh." Ivy seemed genuinely surprised, as if she had never inspected her piece of furniture up close before.

Slowly standing up, Ivy picked up the garbage bag and took it to the kitchen, leaving the blonde behind in a state of bewilderment. Tilly wondered why the dark-haired girl treated her own personal belongings with such indifference. Ivy acted almost as if she lived in the stage set of a film production, where nothing had any real meaning or purpose.

As Tilly reflected on the brunette's odd behavior, she felt an elbow nudge her arm. Turning around, the golden-haired girl saw Ivy holding a magenta blanket. The fabric was covered with a wide range of characters from Disney's animated film collection. Tilly smirked playfully at the sight.

"Here, I brought this." Ivy waved the blanket in front of the blonde, "You looked cold."

"A _Disney_ blanket?" Tilly teased.

"It belongs to my niece. She's a child, much like yourself." Ivy joked.

Tilly giggled at the raven-haired girl's remark, accepting the graciously offered item. She sat on the couch, grabbing Ivy by the wrist and pulling the brunette down beside her. Spreading out the cotton sheet, Tilly threw the blanket over them both.

"So, you have a niece?" Tilly casually shuffled closer to Ivy.

"A _stepniece_." Ivy clarified curtly.

"So, you have a stepsibling?" Tilly persisted, "An _evil_ stepsister?"

With a scoff, Ivy rolled her eyes, reaching down to retrieve the remote-control device from the center table. The dark-haired girl smiled when she felt Tilly's arm coil around her body. Ivy clicked a series of buttons, making a selection on the screen, while the blonde's hand settled against her lower back. 

"You want to watch _Orange Is The New Black_?" Tilly smirked, looking at the brunette.

"I've heard that it has really good reviews." Ivy justified her choice with a haughty tone, "Do you mind?"

"Nope." Tilly nodded, turning her attention back to the television, "The theme song already won me over."

Emitting a content hum, Ivy slowly moved closer to the blonde, lowering her head onto Tilly's shoulder. Under the covers of the blanket, it was warm and cozy. Snuggling into each other, both young women focused their sights on the television. Watching a screen full of bright and colorful images, Tilly toyed with the hemline of Ivy's sweater, yearning to feel the other girl's skin beneath her fingers. The border between the top garment and the brunette’s beige leggings, a threshold that Tilly would never dare cross without Ivy's explicit consent.

"Is this okay?" Tilly whispered into Ivy's ear, tugging on the sweater.

"Y-Yes." Ivy replied with a slight stutter.

"Are you sure?" Tilly didn't want to make Ivy feel uncomfortable.

"It's more than okay." Ivy murmured, giving a small nod.

An arm draped over Tilly's stomach, Ivy nuzzled into the crook of the blonde's neck. She adjusted her body's position, allowing Tilly's hand to slip under her sweater. Pushing past the crimson fabric, when the golden-haired girl's palm came into contact with her bare back, Ivy's breath hitched. The pleasant touch sent a tingling sensation down the brunette’s spine, almost as if the strokes represented all the lost kisses that the young women hadn't been able to share.

With granted permission, Tilly's fingertips brushed across Ivy's soft flesh, nails tracing circular patterns along her lower ribs, maintaining the interaction innocent. The feeling was utterly indescribable, an experience that Ivy couldn't recount using words. The blonde's ministrations were soothing and therapeutic, a tender massage that made it impossible for Ivy to stay awake. She felt Tilly's chest rise and fall from under her own body. The rhythmic motion of the taller girl's breathing was lulling Ivy to sleep.

The voices coming from the television became indistinguishable. Through half-lidded eyes, Ivy's vision started blurring, unable to focus on the screen. Stifling a yawn, she tucked her legs against Tilly's side, curled into a ball, cuddling on top of the golden-haired girl. Tilly's caresses continued, bestowing a series of feather-light touches along the brunette’s sensitive skin, causing her to slip in and out of consciousness. Surrounded by the scent of fresh tangerines, a familiar fragrance; Ivy's lips quirked upward, forming a gentle smile on her face, even as she drifted off into a peaceful slumber.


	17. Conventional Lessons

Chapter 17

Conventional Lessons

* * *

 

Throughout the ages, many scholars and philosophers have preached that courage in the face of great adversity is more commendable than reaching a coveted goal. Valor. Determination. Persistence. The virtues that should be valued and praised are those which propel a people forward, invigorating them to continue down the correct path.

Failure is the mother of success. If the old saying was true, then Drizella had to be close to achieving some great triumph. No amount of proper manual motions produced any telekinetic power. Concentration seemed inefficient, nothing bulged from its resting spot. Unable to even summon enough magic to light the wick of a candle, Drizella began feeling like a fraud. 

An audience of small birds had perched themselves on the nearby trees, chirping loudly as Drizella tried to move a brick. The shrill squawks seemed to mock her, like tiny bursts of giggles. The brunette turned her attention toward the rambunctious cluster of fowl, a grimace on her face. She longed to launch a stone at the chattering sparrows, hoping to frighten them off from the low branches. 

"Focus, Drizella." Regina reprimanded, trying to stop herself from laughing at her student's adorable feud with a group of birds.

"Yes, I'm sorry." Drizella apologized.

In spite of Regina's articulate instructions, the young brunette was unable to conjure up a simple spell. Conventional lessons were not procuring any positive results, Drizella was struggling to reconnect with her suppressed magic. Regina was patient and understanding, never hesitated to offer a pat on her pupil's shoulder. No one became a sorceress in a single day, there was no need to berate Drizella for her valiant efforts.

"You can do this, Drizella." Regina coaxed.

Arm extended in front of her body, Drizella pointed at a large boulder, wrinkling her nose and causing it to gradually gravitate. She tried to will the rock into moving forward, but it just fumbled in the air for a few seconds before crashing down.

"I can't." Drizella choked out, "I'm sorry. I'm wasting your time, I'm sure you have better things to do."

Drizella began to saunter off, her voice laced with despair. She was such a disappointment, to herself and to Regina. Tears fogged the brunette's vision, she hated being a burden to someone.

"But you're not wasting my time..." Regina called out after the young woman.

Emma Swan. The story of an ordinary woman who had mastered her magical abilities at an age older than Drizella. Attempting to encourage the brunette, Regina talked vividly about her dear friend, recollecting stories of another realm, a place without enchantments or supernatural forces. It was a distant land, where Henry had been born, full of metal machines, like automobiles or _motorcycles_ , and soft clothing, similar to the garments that Regina had worn during her first encounter with Drizella.  

Mother and son, both hailed from Storybooke, a town in the providence known as Maine, the name of a fabricated paradise. During her youth, Regina used to act impulsively, with hatred embedded in her soul. She had cast a malignant curse, sacrificing the heart of her father to do so. The nefarious incarnation affected Regina's entire kingdom, transporting all its residents to a foreign universe that suffered from an absence of magic. By altering everyone's memories, Regina tailored the new world to accommodate her selfish ambitions. For a time, it was enough to be feared, as long as she was in control of her destiny.

Once a despotic tyrant, Regina had a change of perspective. Henry, Emma, and other benign individuals, wormed their way into her heart, filling the bitter woman's life with happiness and a sense of purpose. Some things were more potent than hate. An epiphany for Regina, the realization that love was the purest form of magic.

"You just need the _right_ motivation." Regina smirked.

In her infinite wisdom, the older woman formulated an unorthodox teaching plan, a way to inspire Drizella. Reckless and bold, Regina shattered a loose portion of wall from high up on the tower. Debris came tumbling on down toward Regina, forcing the dark-haired girl into action.

"Regina, no!" Drizella waved both hands in the air, arms enveloped in a bluish glow.

Magic rays spouted from her fingertips, vaporizing the impeding rubble that had been headed for Regina. Reacting on instinct alone, Drizella refused to allow harm to befall her beloved mentor. That desire to protect Regina, the woman who had been kind enough to forgive the misguided girl for her transgressions, it was Drizella's source of power. 

A warm hand rested on the young brunette’s cheek, Regina smiled at Drizella with so much pride that it took the young woman every bit of self-control to stop herself from crying. For a moment, she truly believed that Regina had given her the strength to defeat Lady Tremaine. The dark-haired girl felt overconfident, like nothing could stand in her way. Regina had successfully taught her student how to use magic, but she failed to warn Drizella about the consequences behind exploiting such a wondrous gift.

* * *

Shimmering rays of light shined through the window. The closed drapes weren't adequate enough to stop the persistent sun from announcing that the morning had entered into the apartment. The precocious beams illuminated the living room, bathing the walls with a radiant glow. Heat invaded the atmosphere, spreading across the residence. Two people laid on the couch, a tangled bundle of limbs under a blanket. Empty pizza boxes were properly stacked on top of the center table, conserving a relatively tidy environment.

Ivy's eyes fluttered open, pupils adjusting to the brightness of her environment. She could sense someone's steady heartbeat thumping under her ear. Ivy was resting over a soft surface, too warm to be her couch's rigid cushion. Strong arms were tightly fastened around the brunette's waist, ensuring Ivy that she wouldn't fall over the edge of the sofa. Lifting her head slowly, Ivy looked up to see a familiar blonde. Tilly, still unconscious, held the dark-haired girl firmly against her chest.

Golden curls sprawled out on the couch's armrest, glimmering like a halo, the slumbering girl looked like an angelic being. A beautiful sight to behold, awakening in Tilly's loving embrace was an experience that Ivy could grow accustomed to. Her hand glided up to the taller girl's face, fingers gently trailing along Tilly's lips. Stirring with a groan, the blonde leaned into Ivy's touch.

"Robin..." Tilly muttered in her sleep.

Ivy ceased the caresses, retracting her hand as if Tilly's skin was on fire. Throat constricting with emotion, the brunette felt a pang of hurt sizzle against her breastbone. Tilly was dreaming about _another_ girl, one whose name she should have completely forgotten. A dull ache throbbing in Ivy's chest, unshed tears gathered around her eyes. Reality settled in. What she had with Tilly was only a temporary relationship, a brief and blissful interval between the long period of bleakness that would permanently be Ivy's life. 

Blinded by self-indulgence, the brunette had ignored the fact that Tilly's heart belonged to Robin, a courageous young woman with a pair of beautiful emerald eyes and wavy golden tresses. Ivy could never win a competition against Robin. It has already been decreed that true love conquers all.

A tear slid down Ivy's cheek, and her lungs didn't remember how to breathe. She was appalled with herself, for allowing Tilly to matter, for granting the blonde so much influence over her feelings. Face scrunching up in anger, Ivy began to push her body off from Tilly. She needed to put enough distance between them. Ivy could no longer withstand laying in the embrace of the girl who had shattered her heart.

"Robin... Don't hurt Ivy." Tilly moaned out, "I-I won't let you hurt Ivy..."

With one arm, Tilly strengthened her grip on Ivy's waist, refusing to let the dark-haired girl move. Her other hand found its way into a mess of raven curls, positioning Ivy's head under her chin. The brunette was shocked, a sudden wave of relief washed over her. Despite the emergence of Robin in the young woman's dreams, Tilly still cared deeply for Ivy, enough to defy the green-eyed blonde's spiritual manifestation. 

Emitting a loud grunt, Tilly snuggled into Ivy, using the smaller girl's body like a pillow. She started to stroke the brunette's hair, running her fingers through each ebony curl. Unintelligible mumbling spilled out of Tilly's parted lips, too low for Ivy to comprehend what words were being whispered. It seemed as though the blonde was protecting Ivy from some unseen danger. 

"Ugh." Tilly grumbled, awakening with a sudden jolt.

Blinking a few times, it took a minute for the blonde to realize that she was in Ivy's living room. Stifling a yawn, Tilly felt the weight of another person on top of her chest. She smiled widely, looking down at a pair of startled auburn eyes. 

"Good morning." Tilly chirped, shuffling on the couch to sit upright.

Ivy struggled to detach herself from the golden-haired girl's body, flailing around as she tried to shift toward a seated position. Tilly draped an arm over Ivy's stomach, preventing her from falling off the couch. She pulled the brunette close, enjoying the blush that was spreading across the young woman's porcelain skin.

"Morning." Ivy tried to act nonchalant, "Did you sleep well?"

Avoiding the blonde's affectionate gaze, Ivy couldn't function properly. She was brimming with curiosity over Tilly's dream. The dark-haired girl desired to know why her name had been whispered, and the context behind the events that had unfolded in Tilly's subconscious mind.

"I had a bloody awful _nightmare_." Tilly's grin turned into a uncharacteristic frown, "But at least I'm awake now."

"What was it about?" Ivy inquired too eagerly.

"It was ridiculous, you're going to think that I'm crazy." Tilly bobbed her head dismissively.

"Try me." Ivy placed a reassuring hand on Tilly's knee.

Attempting a sensual approach to manipulation, Ivy fluttered her eyelashes, glancing coyly in the blonde's direction. Biting her lower lip, a thumb tenderly grazed against Tilly's leg, while a pair of brown irises stared at the taller girl's face, glimmering with interest. 

"You don't need to seduce me, Ivy." Tilly giggled, "I'd tell you anything."

Cheeks flushing red, Ivy cleared her throat. She tried to brush off her mortification, but Tilly kept smiling cheekily. The blonde could read Ivy's mind so well, with an alarming amount of precision and accuracy.

"Well?" Ivy quipped, covering up her embarrassment by acting annoyed.

"Alright, alright. Don't be a grouch." Tilly placed her finger on Ivy's nose, giving the brunette a playful bop.

Crossing both arms behind her back, Tilly reclined on the couch, leaning against the headrest. She sighed wistfully, staring at the ceiling in a pensive manner. Tilly hesitated for a second, organizing her thoughts before she sat up straight and began speaking.

"In my nightmare, I saw this tall, golden-haired young woman with piercing green eyes." Tilly recollected, "She told me that her name was Robin, and claimed to be my girlfriend-"

"Sounds more like a _dream_ than a nightmare." Ivy interjected with a scowl, tilting her face away from Tilly.

The blonde chuckled softly, amused by Ivy's apparent display of jealousy. It was a ridiculous notion to Tilly, the idea that a girl as beautiful as Ivy Belfrey could even feel remotely envious toward a figment of someone’s overactive imagination. She scooted closer, hand finding its way onto the brunette's chin.

"Can you let me finish?" Tilly cooed, running a finger along the other girl's jawline.

"Fine." Ivy huffed, her skin was already missing Tilly's touch as the blonde dropped her arm.

"Anyhow, it was all a giant, nonsensical mess. Robin was furious, saying someone named _Drizella_ had invoked a malignant curse. She accused you of being an evil sorceress, and then I really got peeved. Robin pulled out a bow, pointed an arrow at you, and fired. I stood in the way, and when the arrow hit me, I woke up." Tilly explained, accompanying her words with descriptive hand gestures.

"Y-You got _shot_?" Ivy's heart started to palpitate, "For me?"

"Of course." Tilly shrugged, "I wasn't going to let that blonde Amazonian kill you."

A wry chuckle spilled out of Ivy's lips, she shook her head in disbelief. She gazed warmly at Tilly, and the blonde reciprocated with a lopsided grin. Even if it had just been a dream, the fact that Tilly would jump in front of a potentially lethal projectile to protect her was shockingly unprecedented. Ivy didn't know how to wipe the smile from off her own face, wondering how the golden-haired girl always managed to say what she needed to hear.

"So, how about you go take a shower and I'll make us some breakfast?" Tilly suggested, hopping from off the couch

"There's not a lot in my fridge, I forgot to buy groceries this week." Ivy warned as she stood up.

"Challenge accepted." Tilly smirked confidently.

With an amused sigh, Ivy picked up the magenta blanket and began folding it, transforming the sheet into a neat bundle. No matter how small of a mess was, the brunette couldn't tolerate disorganization, her primal impulse was to correct it. Watching as Tilly bounced into the kitchen, Ivy was eager to see what the blonde could produce with just an egg carton and a handful of vegetables.

In a brief span of time, something had shifted between both young women. Cabinets opening and closing in the distance, Tilly prepared a breakfast meal in the kitchen, while the brunette tidied around the living room. Developing a domestic routine, Ivy and Tilly were two very distinct individuals who could synchronize with one another despite their differences. Jagged puzzle pieces that interlocked together.

Ivy was enjoying how casual their relationship had become, but lingering doubts invaded her mind. Tilly didn't know a genuine thing about the dark-haired girl, and she never could. Plagued by inner turmoil, the brunette needed to get herself into the bathroom. Ivy sincerely hoped that the soothing water from a warm shower could alleviate the wayward thoughts running through her head.


	18. Fried Omelets

Chapter 18

Fried Omelets

* * *

 

An enchanted mirror, a device used to obtain information. On its surface, the magical object shows glimpses of a faraway place. Acquiring insight is a capricious endeavor, it might produce unwanted results. Knowledge may be a form of power, but it sometimes inflicts a great deal of pain. The truth is better left unspoken when its discovery starts poisoning your soul.

Using a simple spell, Regina had summoned visions from the Tremaine Manor, hoping to see what Drizella's mother had planned. In order to effectively prepare for the woman's next scheme, Regina thought that being one step ahead would be advantageous. Holding the enchanted mirror in her hands, the former queen sat next to Drizella, observing as the blurry images came into focus.

Manifesting itself on the crystal surface, a grandiose mausoleum. Lady Tremaine stood in front of an open coffin, looking down with a saddened expression. Anastasia's resting chambers. Her precious older child. The sister that Drizella could no longer admire, for Lady Tremaine had tarnished her memory. The brunette's fingers caressed the mirror, a miniscule part of her still missed Anastasia.

"That's my sister." Drizella stated, sparing Regina a brief glance, "Anastasia. My mother's favorite."

On the reflection, Lady Tremaine waved the magic wand, bestowing a tap on her palm and casting an incantation. A yellow glow engulfed the woman's entire hand. She plunged her arm into Anastasia's torso, pulling out the catatonic girl's heart. Lady Tremaine analyzed the organ for a second, observing how it glimmered with a red light.

"What is she doing to her?" Drizella yelled as she watched the blue-eyed woman return Anastasia's heart into her chest.

"Practicing." Regina quipped, unable to meet Drizella's worried gaze.

"For what?" Drizella asked, confused by her mother's behavior.

"For waking her up. She almost had my son's heart ripped out before, because the only way to wake up Anastasia is by taking her heart and replacing it with one full of..." Regina's voice trailed off.

"Belief." Drizella finished, "My heart."

Drizella's hands dropped, nervously tugging at the skirt of her dress. Throat constricted with emotion. It was no secret that the cruel woman loved Anastasia more than Drizella, the fact had always been evident. Realizing that Lady Tremaine would be willing to sacrifice her life to bring Anastasia back from the dead, it finally crushed what was left of Drizella's spirit.

"I'm so sorry." Regina felt disgusted by Lady Tremaine.

"I always knew that she loved her more, I guess I j-just didn't know how much until now." Drizella stammered.

Heart thumping against her breastbone, Drizella's face fell. Tears brimming at the corner of her eyes, the young woman began to cry. There would never be a chance for reconsolidation with her mother. She was alone.

"Oh god. I'll never get away from her, will I?" Drizella croaked out, "No matter what I do, she always finds a way to hurt me. I'll never be free."

Panic washing over her, chest heaving up and down. Drizella buried her face in both palms, consumed by an irrational fear. She couldn't even feel the warmth of Regina's hands brushing tenderly against her arms.

"Hey, I can help." Regina cooed, "I promise, I, I can protect your heart."

"There's only one way to protect me. Please, please. Help me kill her." Drizella begged desperately, holding onto Regina's wrists.

"Drizella, no!" Regina scolded, "I cannot let you go down that dark path."

Flinching away from Regina's touch, the young woman felt betrayed. Not even her mentor cared enough. Drizella had been worthless to every single person that she admired. Her mother. Cecelia. Regina. No one was ever unconditionally on Drizella's side. A misguided sense of ethics was more important to Regina than Drizella's well-being.

"I thought you _cared_ about me." Drizella sobbed.

"That's why I'm saying no!" Regina tried to explain.

"You know what? That's exactly what my mother used to tell me." Drizella had stood up abruptly, "And if you are not going to help me, I know a prince who will."

Overwhelmed with disappointment, the brunette sauntered away, leaving Regina and the crumbling tower behind. It was all too much for Drizella. Tears freely falling from both eyes, nostrils flaring up with rage. Her mentor didn't understand why she needed to retaliate against Lady Tremaine. Only vengeance could fill the gaping hole in Drizella's heart. If Regina treasured her pupil, she should comprehend that the pain afflicting the dark-haired girl was too harrowing to process.

Picking up the discarded cloak from off a rock pile, Drizella tied the garment around her neck. Hands clenched into fists, knuckles turning white, nails piercing the skin of her palms. Blood, it trickled across her wrists, tainted crimson red, a color that was fitting to the broken girl's soul. She vowed to achieve some form of vindication, Lady Tremaine had wounded her for the last time. Those who seek revenge are advised to dig two graves, one for their enemy and another for themselves. An ominous warning, meant to affect people who valued their own welfare, a cautionary injunction that didn't perturb Drizella, because she had absolutely nothing to live for.

* * *

It goes without saying, in a deluxe upper-class apartment, the main bathroom could be described as somewhat extravagant. Glossy porcelain adorned the vanities, and the enamel in the sink was flawless, a polished coating. Everything glowed in a brilliant shade of white. Stainless steel faucets, scrupulously cleaned. Several fuzzy towels were carefully folded on a cushioned chair in the corner.

Steam clouding the full-length mirror that hung behind the closed door, the textile floor became humid from the condensing vapor. Inside the shower stall, Ivy permitted warm water to run down her body. The brunette forgot about her problems for a moment. She lathered shampoo into a bundle of raven curls, fingers threading through her short tresses. Ivy massaged her scalp, rinsing the soap off from each strand of hair.

With her eyes closed, Ivy felt relaxed as the heated water began to soothe all her dull aches and sores. Using a washcloth, the brunette scrubbed every inch of her body, removing sweat and grime. After a few minutes, Ivy finally turned off the faucet, letting the residual liquid disappear through the drain.

Ivy swiped the bath curtain open, twisting her fingers in a towel. She stepped out of the cubicle, her bare feet walking on the cold floor. Clicking on the blow dryer, the brunette started desiccating her hair. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, underneath fluorescent light, Ivy couldn't even recognize the brown-eyed girl staring back. A young woman who was utterly pathetic, unable to obtain her heart's true desire. After all the atrocities that had been committed, with every preventive measure implemented, and yet, Ivy didn't have what she wanted the most.

Reaching for her cosmetics bag, the brunette pulled out a container of skin foundation. She spread the cream over her cheeks, beginning the usual beauty ritual. A tube of mascara, Ivy ran the tiny comb through her eyelashes. Lipstick, smeared burgundy balm over her mouth. Men often complimented Ivy's physical appearance, and she had always relished the attention. It all seemed frivolous now. Ivy only yearned for the attention of one person, a young woman who could chip away at her mask.

"Damn it!" Ivy snapped, throwing all her make-up products against the sink.

Face buried into a pair of clasped hands, Ivy willed herself not to cry. It wouldn't change anything, her tears never had before. Tilly, the golden-haired girl who never saw her as anything less than beautiful. How hideous would Ivy Belfrey seem to the blonde if she knew the truth, that neither of them even existed.

The charade had become as treacherous as quicksand, the harder that Ivy struggled, the more her heart sunk in. She didn't know how to fix the situation; it was out of her power. The dark-haired girl's feelings for Tilly had developed into something that she couldn't live without. Despite all her inhibitions, Ivy was in _love_ with Tilly.

Clawing at her hair, Ivy failed to maintain her composure. Not a marvelous and phenomenal sensation, love was pain. Ivy didn't feel light or fluffy, her heart ached, stuck in a state of constant agony when Tilly wasn't around. Hand pressing against her chest, inhaling and exhaling, Ivy had to calm herself down.

"Ivy?" Tilly knocked on the door from the other side, "Are you okay?"

"Y-Yes." Ivy answered quickly, "I'll be out in just a second."

Wiping her face with a towel, Ivy flicked around a pristine mane of raven hair. With a napkin, she dabbed at her cheeks, removing streaks of mascara stains. Releasing a huge breath, Ivy got dressed, throwing on a thin camisole and slipping into a pair of small shorts. She restored her normal disposition before twisting the knob and pushing open the door.

An appetizing smell wafted throughout the apartment, finding its way into Ivy's nostrils as she stepped out of the bathroom. A whiff of the scrumptious aroma elicited a growl from the brunette's stomach, remindng her that she was hungry. The distance to the kitchen was small, but Ivy discovered that the scent actually originated from the adjacent dining room.

Placemats had been properly arranged on top of the dinner table, utensils by each side. A pitcher full of orange juice laid between a set of glasses. Two plates rested near matching mugs of freshly brewed coffee. A container of butter, a jar of strawberry jam, and a bottle of maple syrup decorated the surface. Ivy approached the display, a large smile found its way onto her face.

"Good morning!" Tilly glided into the dining room, a skillet in one hand, and a spatula in the other.

"You actually managed to cook something?" Ivy teased.

With a knowing grin, Tilly served a golden-brown omelet onto each of their plates. A folded sheet of fried egg batter, the flattened yolk concoction was filled with cubes of minced onions and slices of chipped green peppers. After positioning them on the platters, Tilly decorated the spongy surface of the wrap with a few parsley leaves, comically waving her hand when she finished adding the garnishes.

"Voila!" Tilly chimed, "Two fried omelets, the healthiest meal that I've ever offered you."

As the brunette inspected the dish, Tilly walked back to the kitchen, and discarded the frying pan in the sink. She returned with a couple of napkins and a sugar flask, recalling that Ivy enjoyed drinking her coffee with an absurd amount of sugar.

"Ten points for presentation." Ivy pointed at the parsley garnish with a smirk, "But I'm highly critical when it comes to flavor."

"You're highly critical when it comes to _everything_ , so I'll try not to take it personally." Tilly jested, bowing as if she were a butler.

Pulling out a chair for the brunette, Tilly snickered to herself, finding humor in the glare that Ivy was giving her. She shot a reprimanding look to the blonde, trying to appear offended by the remark, but ironically, the judgmental expression on her face supported the blue-eyed girl's perceptive joke.

"Did you cook the vegetables properly?" Ivy made a grimace as she inspected the green morsels.

Tilting her head to the side, the dark-haired girl felt apprehensive to try the dish. She didn't have full trust in Tilly's culinary capabilities. Observing as Ivy poked the omelet with a fork, Tilly wore an arrogant grin, taking a seat in front of the brunette.

"Come on, give it a try. I guarantee that you'll love it." Tilly challenged smugly.

Holding a knife in one hand, with a fork in the other, Ivy cut off a portion of the omelet. She tentatively brought the slab of fried egg batter into her mouth. As Ivy began chewing on her first bite, she realized that it was going to be hard to keep a neutral expression when confronted with such a delectable plate of food. Condiments swam around her tongue; she could taste all the spices that converged together to provide a delicious layer of seasoning.

"Well, do you love it?" Tilly had her elbows propped on the table, hands tucked under her chin.

"W-What?" Ivy choked, mishearing Tilly's question.

"I asked, do you love the _omelet_?" Tilly lifted an eyebrow in confusion.

"Oh, y-yes. It was good." Ivy nodded nervously, grabbing a napkin to wipe her mouth, "But, you know, I shouldn't get used to it, the omelet, I mean. You wouldn't stay around to make me fried omelets all the time. I can't depend on an omelet to always be around."

Ivy sounded adorably flustered as she rambled on about the breakfast dish, cheeks reddening from embarrassment. Her auburn eyes darted away from the blonde's bewildered gaze as she spoke. It became apparent that the omelet was an elaborate metaphor for something else, but Tilly didn't want to presume too much.

Reaching over the table, Tilly took a hold of Ivy's hand, tugging at the brunette's fingers to draw her attention. Bashful smiles were exchanged, Tilly's thumb traced circular patterns along the dark-haired girl's palm, hoping to create a comforting sensation. She knew that Ivy was always hurting, pain flickered across a pair of auburn irises, more often than not.

"I'll _always_ be around to make you an omelet, Ivy." Tilly declared warmly, "You don't even need to ask."

The sincerity in Tilly's voice almost made Ivy burst into tears. She forced her mouth to become a grateful grin, a sentiment that felt vapid. Tilly had good intentions, but the blonde was simply making a futile commitment based on what little she knew about the dark-haired girl. Ivy Belfrey, a spoiled brat who held some resentment toward her uncaring and abusive mother. Tilly thought that the brunette hid her genuine feelings under a figurative mask, but she had no idea how much darkness was actually buried beneath the surface of Ivy's facade.

Strengthening her resolve, Ivy needed to protect her budding relationship with Tilly. Everything that had transpired before, it no longer mattered. The current reality was more valuable than any of the dreadful truths that Ivy had fermented as toxic secrets. With unwavering conviction, the brunette decided to conserve her artificial world, a place where Tilly treasured Ivy Belfrey for being an admirable young woman, and in which, she couldn't remember how ruthless the dark-haired girl had once been.


	19. Fiction Novels

Chapter 19

Fiction Novels

* * *

 

Love was supposed to be magical. A marvelous sensation that had to burn with the intensity of a roaring fire, but at the same, it should be as nurturing as a gentle stream. A wonderful contradiction, love drove people crazy while simultaneously saving them from the brink of insanity.

Being with Prince Gregor was simple, not spontaneous or exciting. The young man was chivalrous and educated, he could listen to Drizella speak for hours, just nodding politely, never arguing with her. Handsome and agreeable, Prince Gregor would be a logical choice for a husband; refreshingly intellectual, a good listener, and the last heir to the throne. Every single one of his wonderful qualities helped Drizella remember that she didn't love him at all.

A soft touch on his arm, Drizella's display of fake sobs, convincing the young aristocrat that Lady Tremaine was planning to kill her had been easy. Armed with his sword, Prince Gregor wanted to prove himself to the girl that he intended to marry. He marched into Anastasia's chambers, valiantly clutching the handle of his saber. A sinister smirk manifested itself on Drizella's face, as she observed the brown-haired man positioning his stance. He was prepared to strike down Lady Tremaine mercilessly for her sake.

"That's enough!" Regina entered the chamber, her hand lifted up.

Performing an efficient magic spell, energy sprayed out of Regina’s hands, pulsating against Prince Gregor’s back. The young nobleman was paralyzed, turned into a motionless statue. Drizella had to admit that her former master was a force to be reckoned with, an unfortunate obstacle blocking the path to the young brunette’s vengeance.

Drizella spun around, watching the raven-haired woman approach her. Regina wouldn’t understand the pain that her mother had instilled in her. Drizella was driven to hate Anastasia because of Lady Tremaine's actions. She completely despised her sister, the only person who had ever loved Drizella unconditionally. It was all unforgivable.

"You don't want to do this, Drizella." Regina preached.

"No, _you_ don't want to do this." Drizella growled, "You refuse to understand that we have a different story. A pain like mine can't be washed away."

Stomping away from Regina, the young woman strutted toward her mother, fiercely determined to be heard. Lady Tremaine remained indifferent, barely even acknowledging the dark-haired girl's threats. Drizella's heart pounded inside her chest, a hand reaching out for Anastasia's open coffin. Her fingers coiled over the edge of the long casket. Nostrils flaring in anger, the brunette knew what she must do.

"You know, I've been trying my whole life to win your approval, but now I realize I'm never going to get it." Drizella addressed Lady Tremaine, "Because I'm not _her_."

"You're most certainly _not_." Lady Tremaine sneered, her cobalt irises held nothing but contempt for Drizella.

Her mother's few words had cemented the suspicion that ate away at the brunette's soul. Lady Tremaine didn't love, or even care for, her at all. Only Anastasia mattered. Drizella stared at the blue-eyed woman, a devastated expression on her face.

"Drizella, come with me." Regina pleaded, "If you kill your mother, you'll regret it."

"You know what, you're right, but I didn't bring Gregor here to kill my mother." Drizella revealed, "I brought him here to kill something else."

"What are you talking about?" Regina took a step back.

"I can't let my mother have what she wants." Drizella's eyes pooled with tears.

With a wave of her hand, Drizella summoned a large vine to magically emerge from a nearby potted plant. The root lunged toward at the petrified prince, piercing him through the torso. The young man fell down to the floor, blood oozing out from his wound. He lied on the ground, lifeless and dead.

"Drizella!" Regina was horrified, "What have you done?"

Brushing fingers against her lips, Drizella felt her body tremble. Murder. The dark-haired girl's mouth shifted to a smirk. She had tainted her heart, corrupting its purity. Lady Tremaine could no longer use Drizella to revive Anastasia. The conniving woman glared at her daughter, slightly shocked by the brunette's actions.

"What both of you were most afraid of." Drizella explained, "I turned my heart black, and now, it's of no use to you mother. You've failed."

"What do you want from me?" Lady Tremaine quipped, "Congratulations?"

"No, I want you to _suffer_." Drizella snarled, "Regina taught me things you never would, and I don't just mean magic tricks. She taught me how to seek revenge. A little thing called the dark curse."

"Drizella, that was a warning." Regina chimed in, "A curse is never worth the cost."

The young woman's eyes were hollow; Regina's words could no longer reach her, nothing was able to sway the brunette’s conscience. She was numb. Drizella desired revenge, to see her mother languish. She wanted to be vindicated, to wipe the smug grin off from Lady Tremaine's face.

"It is to _me_. Death is too merciful for you mother. I'm going to take you to another realm where I can plant a seed of pain in your life." Drizella spat bitterly, "It'll start small, and it will grow until everything you see, you breathe, you feel, is pain."

Taken aback by her daughter's ardent proclamations, Lady Tremaine managed to keep her composure. Head held high, she refused to let Drizella rattle her with merely empty statements.

"No, listen to me." Regina begged, "I wanted to help you, but if you go through with this, I will do whatever it takes to stop you. Heroes can always break curses."

"Well then, I guess I'd better find a way to make mine unbreakable." Drizella grinned, "Thank you, for your final lesson."

Snapping her fingers together, a spiral of purple smoke engulfed the young sorceress. She teleported out of Regina's reach, and away from her mother's domain. Magic, a force that Drizella had now perfected. She only needed to discover how to cast an unbreakable dark curse, the final stage of her victory. In another realm, a world of Drizella's own creation, she could finally be free. The brunette yearned to break the many chains that held her back, whether it be due to Regina's false sense of morality or Lady Tremaine's cruel reign of tyranny.

Her mother deserved to agonize, and if Regina was so adamant about interfering, then Drizella would have to develop infallible methods for contingency. She had no loyalty to anyone. By committing murder, the deadliest sin of all, she fragmented a piece of her soul. It didn't matter to the raven-haired girl that her heart was blackened in the process of thwarting Lady Tremaine's schemes, it wasn't as if she could damage what had never been whole. 

* * *

Dim lighting emitted from incandescent lamps, the calming sound of soft classical music echoed through the establishment. Walls painted in a soothing shade of mint green. The floors were covered with fluffy carpeting; comfortable sofas could be found at every corner. A pleasant fragrance, the smell of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air. A picturesque, little bookstore on the outskirts of the city, near the seaside coast. The shop was isolated from Seattle's most popular commercial areas.

A few patrons wandered around the aisles, searching for something interesting to read. The tall shelves were filled with fiction novels, a variety of genres and different authors. Colorful, hardcover books had been lined up across the front racks, on display to attract the attention of whoever entered the store. The cash register was located in the back, a teenage girl served as the clerk, but she appeared too focused on her mobile phone device to aid any of the customers.

A restless spirit, Tilly was not fond of lounging in small facilities. She preferred to perch herself on a rooftop's ledge, looking up at the clear skies. The blonde hated feeling confined, to be trapped in a limited space. Setting aside her personal inhibitions, Tilly wanted to bring Ivy to a peaceful environment, hoping that the dark-haired girl would enjoy the bookstore's tranquil atmosphere.

Brown eyes scanned the title of each book's spine, browsing the selection on a mantle labeled as English literature. Ivy seemed to appreciate Tilly's choice of venue, her expression became stern as she searched for a particular novel. The brunette set her sights on an elevated cupboard, one that was slightly beyond her reach. If she had worn her usual high-heeled footwear, retrieving the item would have been feasible.

On her tiptoes, Ivy looked utterly adorable as she stretched out her arm, flailing and hopping around, attempting to grab the book. Tilly indulged in the shorter girl's cute antics, a wide smile spreading across her face. Feeling shame for finding Ivy's struggle so amusing, the blonde extended a hand upward, plucking the novel from off the shelf and letting it fall into her palms. She glanced at the title, William Shakespeare's infamously tragic play, _Romeo & Juliet_.

"Here you go, _shorty_." Tilly grinned as she presented Ivy with the book.

"You are literally just _two_ inches taller than me." Ivy rolled her eyes, "I shouldn't have worn flat-heeled shoes."

"Then why did you?" Tilly crossed her arms, leaning against the wooden rack with a knowing smirk.

"Because I didn't know if you were going to make me scale up another abandoned building, or walk down a secluded alleyway full of trash." Ivy quipped, nudging the blonde softly with her elbow, "You are always taking me to strange locations."

"You make it sound like I'm the white rabbit from _Alice In Wonderland_." Tilly jested.

"And other places." Ivy muttered under her breath.

"Come again?" Tilly didn't hear Ivy's comment.

"Alice wouldn’t like to be known for a bad dream that she once had." Ivy clarified, with a playful grin, "And I'm sure that she visited other places."

Tilly shook her head and giggled at Ivy's strange joke. It was surprisingly endearing, for the brunette to lower her defenses down and openly share smiles with the golden-haired girl. Tilly could grow accustom to Ivy's newfound good humor. She absentmindedly toyed with a loose string on the sleeve of her flannel shirt, observing as Ivy flipped idly through the pages. For a few minutes, each young woman was quietly lost in her own respective thoughts.

"My sister read this to me once..." Ivy broke the silence, closing the book abruptly, "She was a hopeless romantic, believed in true love. She thought that everyone had a predestined soulmate, some sort of complementary polar opposite."

"Hm." Tilly hummed pensively, "And do _you_?"

Cerulean irises stared into a pair of auburn eyes, a symbolic clash between water and earth. The blush that began coloring Ivy's cheeks gave the blonde more satisfaction than any verbal response ever could be. Tilly patiently waited for the dark-haired girl to answer. She took a step closer to Ivy, bringing her hand up to seize a wisp of raven hair, tucking the defiant curl behind the brunette's ear. Tilly's fingertips trailed along Ivy's face, with a feather-light touch.

"I-" Ivy's breath hitched, "Maybe."

"Well, then there's hope for me yet." Tilly teased.

An irritated huff escaped Ivy's lips, she shoved the book into an available wedge on a low shelf. Shifting to face away from Tilly, the raven-haired girl gripped the strap of her handbag, as she shuffled both feet around and bit her lower lip. Anger. Ivy was clearly annoyed by what Tilly had said, but the blonde couldn't decipher the reason why. 

"Don't do that." Ivy muttered softly, "Don't act like _I'm_ the one who would reject _you_."

After hearing the brunette's reprehensible chide, it was Tilly's turn to scoff. She glared at Ivy incredulously, unable to comprehend how the dark-haired girl could even fathom the possibility of Tilly rebuking her affections. Closing the distance between them, the blonde placed a hand on Ivy's chin, beckoning for her attention.

"In what universe, would _I_ , possibly reject _you_ , Ivy Belfrey?" Tilly proclaimed with such conviction that the brunette's heart skipped a beat.

"In a universe where I'm n-not Ivy Belfrey..." Ivy whispered, her voice cracking as she leaned into Tilly's palm.

"What do you mean?" Tilly tilted her head in confusion, "Are you talking about your money? I wouldn't care if you were dirt poor, I-"

"No, no. It's not that." Ivy interjected, holding Tilly's hand against her own cheek. 

"Then what is it?" Tilly stroked the brunette's skin with her thumb.

"I-I..." Ivy paused, blinking back tears before she spoke again, "If I asked, would you..."

Mouth opened but the words weren't coming out, Ivy stared at the blonde, eyes drenched with pain. The dark-haired girl didn't know how to ask for what she wanted, loving someone was a foreign concept. From past experiences, Ivy knew that it had been better not to care for anyone at all, let alone trust them with her heart. 

"What is it, Ivy?" Tilly asked, bringing her other hand up to cradle Ivy's face.

"Would you..." Ivy hesitated for a second, "Would y-you run away with me?"

Dropping both arms to her sides, Tilly was rendered speechless. She hadn't expected the brunette's bold request. Nothing about the proposal made sense. An undefined relationship, Tilly and Ivy weren't even a couple, just a tentative pair of unlikely friends. Although the romantic tension between them could be described as indisputable, the blonde found it difficult to decipher why a young woman who was reluctant to kiss her, would suggest fleeing from the city together. Ivy Belfrey, the most gorgeous girl that Tilly had ever met, presenting her with such a spectacularly insane idea. 

"Ivy, I-I..." Tilly started, an unreadable expression on her face.

"Forget it." Ivy snapped, "I don't even know why I asked, j-just forget it."

Ivy meant to sound icy and apathetic, but her remark came out like a depressed whimper. She thought that Tilly sincerely cared about her, a lapse in judgement. Balling her fingers to make a fist around the handbag's strap, Ivy felt stupid for hoping that the blonde would be inclined to leave Hyperion Heights with her. Fire, Tilly had sparked a flame of rage inside of Ivy. Seducing young women, partaking in casual flings, a habit that the golden-haired girl had inherited from her counterpart. Ivy was obviously just another conquest to Tilly.

Tilly noticed the agony glittering across Ivy's eyes, it was perceivable and alarmingly intense, a blaze that threatened to consume the brunette from within. Her inability to formulate an adequate reply had wounded Ivy's pride. She couldn't afford to waste any more time. Taking one large stride, Tilly approached the dark-haired girl. She wrapped both arms around Ivy's body, pulling her close.

"Yes. The answer is _undoubtedly_ yes." Tilly murmured into Ivy's ear, "I'd run away with you, anytime you want. I'm always packed."

A wry chuckle, eyes fluttering shut with relief, Ivy reacted by throwing her arms over the taller girl's shoulders, almost permitting her own handbag to fall down to the ground. Ivy's hands latched behind the blonde's neck, fingers hooked into Tilly's aforementioned backpack. A wave of comfort washed over the brunette. Ivy burrowed her face against a mane of golden stresses, the young woman's tangerine scent was invigorating and curative. 

A couple of people took notice of the interaction between an immaculately dressed brunette, and a scruffy looking blonde. Curious eyes feasted upon Ivy and Tilly, watching them with acute interest. It was quite an odd sight, to see a pair of girls hugging each other desperately in the middle of a bookstore. Both young women could feel the gazes boring into them, but were too engrossed in one another to care.

Tightening her grip on the brunette, Tilly had no idea what she had even agreed to. Ivy was impossible to understand. A self-proclaimed heterosexual young woman who _really_ wanted to kiss Tilly sometimes, but ultimately couldn't for some enigmatic reason. Sighing to herself, the blonde placed her chin on Ivy's head. It was evident that she needed to confess her doubts and concerns, but for now, Tilly would hold onto the dark-haired girl, prohibiting her from feeling dismissed in any sense of the term. If Ivy longed for a companion, whether romantic or platonic in nature, Tilly was more than willing to oblige.


	20. S'mores

Chapter 20

S'mores

* * *

 

A full moon adorned the sky, a vast curtain of black silk, laced with scattered glittery stars. The air was pregnant with the smell of salt, a common fragrance for the seaside coast. Waves rippled gently, dark rolling hills of water. The beach was completely empty at night, desolate and peaceful. There were no lamp posts around to brighten up the atmosphere, allowing an exquisite array of celestial bodies to illuminate the heavens.

Walking along the coarse sand, Tilly stared blankly at the horizon, wondering if the ocean's depth could be comparable with the profundity of Ivy's thoughts, both were full of unknown secrets. She held the brunette's hand, fingers interlocked together, guiding them toward a cluster of tall plants near the promenade. A persistent tide kept brushing against the bordering land, creating a calm, swooshing sound.

Acquiring a more appropriate setting for a personal discussion, the cinematic shoreline was only a short distance away from the crowded bookstore. Tilly wanted to find a quiet place to talk, and the deserted area provided the young women with a secluded refuge, suitable for a private conversation. There was a lot that needed to be said, but the blonde didn't know how to start. Under the shade of a large Crabapple tree, Tilly selected a cozy spot beside some small neighboring bushes. She released Ivy's hand, and crouched down on her knees.

"There is _no_ way that I'm sitting on top of the dirty ground, especially not in this outfit." Ivy huffed, arms crossed against her chest, "Do you know how much my skirt is worth?"

"Hopefully more than the towel in your bathroom." Tilly quipped, rummaging through her backpack.

Ivy stood there, mouth agape, watching the golden-haired girl unceremoniously pull out a familiar cotton sheet. She spread the fabric cloth across the terrain, steering clear of the protruding roots. As if it were a picnic blanket, Tilly flounced on top of the towel, grinning widely from ear to ear.

"You took one of my towels without asking?" Ivy scolded, "Well, that was presumptuous of you."

"And since you just proposed to run away with me, I am pretty confident that you'll forgive this transgression." Tilly smirked, reaching out to grab Ivy's wrist.

With a firm jerking motion, the blonde tugged Ivy down. Making a thud when she hit the ground, the smaller girl emitted an annoyed groan, tumbling right beside Tilly. She scooted closer to her golden-haired companion, trying to avoid coming into contact with the rugged gravel. Out of reflex, Ivy placed a hand against Tilly's shoulder, to keep herself from falling over.

"Oh, so you want to go straight to cuddling?" Tilly teased, snaking an arm around the brunette's waist.

"You're an idiot." Ivy grumbled, adjusting herself upright and pushing away from Tilly's grasp.

The blonde ignored Ivy's fastidious attitude, gathering a few dried leaves and several stems of weed. Tilly whistled a gleeful tune, molding the foliage into a neat pile, gathered as a clump before her. Ruffling inside her pocket, Tilly procured a lighter. With a flick of her thumb, the metallic contraption sparked out a steady flame.

"Are you making a fire?" Ivy lifted an eyebrow in disbelief, "It's not that cold."

"There are other reasons to build fires." Tilly stated as she lit the makeshift kindle.

A glimmering blaze erupted from the shrubbery, Tilly blew air into the flare to increase its potency. When she was pleased with her creation, the golden-haired girl returned her attention to the backpack. Nose bunching up in concentration, she shuffled around, searching through the contents of her bag.

"Chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers." Tilly listed the items as she extracted them, "Everything needed to make s'mores."

"And do you always carry those ingredients with you?" Ivy surveyed the provisions with intrigue.

"No, I bought these while you were getting dressed." Tilly divulged, "I slipped out for an hour, and when I came back, you were still in the bathroom."

"Well, it takes some effort to look this good." Ivy scoffed.

Beneath a feminine leather jacket, a silk blouse had been left unbuttoned to a sinfully low level, exposing too much of the brunette's cleavage. She wore a form-fitting black skirt to complete her elegant attire. Flawlessly applied makeup, hiding every blemish on Ivy's porcelain skin, mascara enhancing her eyelashes. Raven tresses molded into pristine curls, shiny balm over a pair of plump lips. Not a single one of the superficial augmentations made the dark-haired girl appear more beautiful to Tilly, she thought that Ivy was always gorgeous.

"You don't need a ton of cosmetics or all those fancy clothes for that." Tilly confessed, "I always think that you look absolutely stunning, Ivy."

Staring at Ivy with sincere admiration, the fire shined against the golden-haired girl's dark pupils, giving her cerulean irises an iridescent glow. A faint pink hue infected the brunette's cheeks, but the darkness of the night kept Ivy's blush hidden. She smiled sheepishly, evading Tilly's loving gaze, hoping that turning away from blonde would cause the fluttering in her stomach to cease.

With a soft hum, Tilly retrieved two metal skewers from her backpack. As Ivy's auburn eyes followed her every movement, Tilly ripped the marshmallow package, plucking two of the white fluffy balls and impaling each of them with a thin rod. She politely handed one of lanced confectioneries to Ivy, who accepted the treat with a playful bow.

"Just hold it near the fire." Tilly instructed, fingers brushing the back of Ivy's hand, "But not _too_ closely."

"Like this?" Ivy's voice went low as she glanced at the blonde.

"Wonderful." Tilly replied curtly, grinning at Ivy with unconditional adoration.

As their marshmallows roasted, Tilly provided her dark-haired companion with a detailed explanation of how s'mores were made. The sweet concoction would be cooked using a campfire, though it could also be made at home in an oven, or even by utilizing a microwave. A marshmallow, held in a metal or wooden skewer, heated until it turned golden-brown. The gooey white chunk went alongside a piece of chocolate, and then sandwiched between two graham crackers.

A traditional nighttime treat, the snack seemed to have been created years ago, by children who were attending summer camps, but no one knows for certain. The s'more got its name from shortening the phrase 'some more' and dubbing the contraction with a significantly memorable title.

Enjoying a casual conversation, Tilly didn't know how to segue into an actually important topic. She wanted to give an accurate label to her relationship with Ivy, but the risk of ruining their pleasant outing by engaging in a complicated discussion was too great. What Ivy and Tilly had meant more than any of the blonde's previous sexual affairs. She couldn't deny that not being allowed to kiss the dark-haired girl was often frustrating, but their connection ran deeper than just physical attraction.

Tilly felt idiotic, for falling so tremendously in love with someone who she wasn't even officially dating. Ivy had trust issues, that may be apparent, but the affliction slashing away at the brunette's soul didn't have a simple cure. Tilly could solve most complex puzzles, outplay the best chess players, decipher the messiest of riddles, and yet, the conundrum encasing Ivy Belfrey's heart had proven to be a challenge far surpassing the golden-haired girl's capabilities.

Lost in doubting thoughts, Tilly felt a nudge on her ribcage, she had received a poke from Ivy's elbow. The dark-haired girl circled her fingers around Tilly's wrist, shifting the skewer that the blonde was holding away from the scorching flames. Tilly snapped out of the polarizing daydream, rotating her head to face Ivy.

"Your marshmallow is on _fire_." Ivy reprimanded, blowing air on Tilly's flaming sugary snack.

"Oh." Tilly blinked before she began giggling, "I guess that it's just extra-crispy."

"This isn't funny." Ivy acted as if she were talking to a child, "You could have burned yourself."

"To be honest, I am not too sure that I didn't get burned." Tilly let out a wry laugh.

Comprehending the underlying message in Tilly's statement, the brunette pressed her lips together tightly, afraid to respond. Ivy ran a hand through her hair, threading fingers along each lock. She was grateful that Tilly didn't ask a lot of questions, but even the blonde's amicable patience had its limits.

After checking that Ivy had effectively saved her marshmallow from being burnt, Tilly began to prepare the treat. Toasted with a golden-brown outer layer, the blonde laid the mushy morsel over a wafer cookie. Snapping apart a chocolate bar, Tilly added a tablet on top of the baked marshmallow, squishing the brown and white mixture in between another crunchy cracker. A finished product, Tilly presented Ivy with an authentic s'more.

"Take a bite." Tilly offered proudly, "And yes, it has _carbs_."

Tilly brought the edge of the s'more up to the brunette's lips. With a relenting grin, Ivy bit into the treat. Chewing the brittle cracker, she savored the taste of cocoa. It was delicious, an incredibly sweet sensation swirling around in her mouth.

As Tilly smiled tenderly at her, Ivy almost surged forward and kissed the golden-haired girl, longing to transfer the flavor of the s'more onto the blonde's tongue. Her heart ached during these fleeting romantic moments, lost opportunities that Ivy might not get a chance to repeat.

"It's perfect." Ivy smiled wistfully, "It's absolutely _perfect_."

"I'm glad." Tilly nodded graciously.

With a contemplative sigh, Ivy latched onto Tilly's arm, resting her head on the taller girl's shoulder. She alternated between nibbling on the s'more and glaring absentmindedly into the fire. The flames danced, hypnotizing the brunette, playing sinister images inside her head. Wisps of orange sparks, taunting Ivy with the fact that Tilly would never reciprocate her feelings, not as long as another reality existed within the confines of her mind.

Ivy pried her vision away from the fire. She slightly lifted her head, observing as the blonde arranged a couple of s'mores. The glimmer from the hot embers illuminated Tilly's cheeks, making her skin glow yellow, flickering across her hair and highlighting her golden tresses. She was unbearably attractive, more so now than Ivy had ever seen before. The brunette studied Tilly's face scientifically, etching each detail onto her memory. With her mouth molded into a complacent smile, the blue-eyed young woman seemed content.

"Tilly?" Ivy didn't use the other girl's name often.

"Hm?" Tilly chirped, turning her head to look at the brunette.

"Are you..." Ivy paused to clear her throat, "Are you happy?"

"Right now? Or with life in general?" Tilly mused with a lopsided smirk.

"With _me_? Are you happy when you're with me?" Ivy interjected Tilly's rambling, intently gauging the blonde's joyful expression for any sudden changes.

The golden-haired girl's cheerful grin faded, contorting into a saddened grimace. Her disposition fluctuated, upholding an uncharacteristically serious demeanor. She reached out with her hand, fingers lightly pressing against Ivy's cheeks. Tilly's cerulean eyes never abandoned the raven-haired girl, gaze directed firmly at Ivy as she began speaking.

"Yes." Tilly replied with unwavering honesty, "I don't think that I am happy when you aren't around."

Tilly brushed her thumb across Ivy's lips, a caress meant to represent the reassuring kiss that she couldn't bestow onto the brunette with her own mouth. Ivy was genuinely moved by the considerate gesture, and she doubted that many people would have shown such discipline.

A loud thumping against her chest, the dark-haired girl melted into the blonde's palm. Ivy knew that she couldn't afford to lose Tilly. Her heart had been broken far too many times, and Ivy feared that the fragile organ wouldn't be able to take another sentimental blow without disintegrating.

The ocean breeze sent an involuntary shiver down Ivy's spine, but her face was still warm, thanks to the blonde's gentle touch. Brown eyes swelled with emotion, shimmering with moisture, pulling away from Tilly's hand. Trying to act nonchalant, the brunette repositioned herself on the blanket. Slumping her head against the taller girl's arm, Ivy hoped to conceal her unshed tears.

Acting on the erroneous assumption that Ivy felt cold, Tilly wrapped an arm around the brunette's shoulders. Up and down, making soothing circular notions with her palm, the golden-haired girl tried to create some heated friction. She was blissfully unaware that Ivy's trembling had nothing to do with the sudden atmospheric drop in temperature.

"Promise me that, whatever happens, you won't forget." Ivy whispered, snuggling into Tilly's side, "Don't forget that I make you happy. Please, promise me."

Looking down at the despondent girl and embracing her tightly, Tilly felt a pang strike her heart. Someone had wounded Ivy severely, shattering her spirit, leaving permanent scars that may never fully heal. Tilly hugged the brunette firmly, vowing to herself that she wouldn't become another one of Ivy's many regrets.

"You make me happy. _Nothing_ is going to change that. Nothing is going happen, Ivy." Tilly swore, "But even if something does, I'll always be here for you."

Consoled by the fervent words, Ivy nuzzled against the blonde's neck. She found humor in how easily Tilly made passionate oaths that she couldn't possibly be able keep. Draping an arm over the taller girl's stomach, Ivy nestled into Tilly's torso, fingers clutching the red fabric of a familiar flannel shirt, refusing to let go.

As the warm fire raged on, both young women stared out into the dark horizon, the sea surface stained with silver ripples of moonlight. Buzzing fireflies appeared, fluttering out from the leaves of the Crabapple tree, and surrounding the area where the two girls laid. The glow of the tiny phosphorescent insects illuminated the grass, creating an atmosphere that some people might consider ominously foreboding, but others could interpret as enchantingly romantic. Hearing Tilly's pulse quiver under her ear, a melodic sound, and feeling the blonde's hand gently pet her hair, Ivy realized that she had never known what magic was until now.


	21. Mysterious Pills

Chapter 21

Mysterious Pills

* * *

 

A career is an individual's metaphorical journey through the process of learning. It is an acquisition of experience and knowledge that is often used as a way to measure a person's worth in life. The term is interchangeable, having a wide scope of definitions. Judgmental elitists and overprivileged academicians frequently assume that someone without a certified profession, has no purpose, holds no value in the world. A faint spark of contempt resides in their eyes for all of those who don't abide to society's conventional standards for success.

The disapproving look that Tilly was receiving from the pharmacist at a local convenience store was to be expected. A familiar condescending glare. The blonde’s ragged appearance was an evident indicator of her pitiful social status. Ripped leggings, a faded loose sweater with holes, fingers coiled around the waist straps of her shabby skirt, she was surely a homeless drifter. The grey-haired man huffed as he retrieved her prescription, flopping the white parcel onto the counter.

An unfavorable twist of fate, Tilly's path was decided for her. As a young woman without a family or any kind of support system, becoming a wandering vagabond seemed more like a foreseeable destiny, rather than a conscious choice. Despite her adverse upbringing, Tilly’s ability to make a sustainable amount of revenue from sheer resourcefulness could be viewed as a successful career.

"I'd like to buy these too." Tilly placed a package of multicolored candlesticks beside her medicine.

"This will all be forty-eight dollars and thirty-two cents." The pharmacist stated sternly, presuming that Tilly couldn't afford the price.

"Sure." Tilly handed over a fifty-dollar bill, "Keep the change."

Grabbing her items, the blonde stomped out of the establishment. She scrambled through the package, inspecting her prescribed bottle of medication. Tilly wondered what physical or mental disease afflicted her. The label on the container instructed Tilly to consume two capsules every single day, and granted her with an unlimited amount of monthly refills, but it didn’t state what the substance was. The health insurance information, the attending physician's name, none of that was written on the flask. 

Plopping the mysterious pills into her mouth, Tilly pushed back the troublesome thoughts. The golden-haired girl didn't want to find out the truth about her condition. If she suffered from a severe case of psychosis or paranoid schizophrenia, it was better not to know. Tilly hated to dwell on her past, mostly because she could seldom remember much of it. The young woman preferred to aspire toward the future, living each day with a carefree a disposition. 

Making her way through the streets, Tilly recalled the location of a hidden shortcut. Climbing up a ladder, she wedged herself between a terrace, trudging across an elevated alleyway. The path led to Roni's bar, and the blonde yearned to pay its eponymous owner a visit. No other restaurant in the city served a hamburger better than the ones sold at Roni’s bar. A juicy slab of angus beef stuck between two slices of warm bread, centered over a plate that was full of crispy fries. With the food tasting so sublime, Tilly was truly going to miss her weekly meals at the pub.

Victoria Belfrey, a despotic business woman and Ivy's tyrannical mother, was planning on buying Roni's establishment. The raven-haired owner had been considering the proposal, weighing her options, attempting to make the most profitable decision. For purely selfish reasons, Tilly hoped that Roni wouldn't sell her restaurant. The bar was one of the remaining pleasant places in Hyperion Heights, a facility that Victoria hadn’t yet remodeled into a commercial skyscraper. 

Sauntering through the passage, Tilly took a turn around the corner, nearing Roni's bar. From a higher surface, she spotted an intriguing man standing in front of a pawnshop. Holding onto his satchel bag, he seemed a bit lost and out of place. Strangers didn't visit Hyperion Heights; it was the least enticing neighborhoods in all of Seattle. Tourists chose to loiter across the more scenic parts of the city.

The brown-haired interloper looked up, startled to see Tilly perched on the border of a low rooftop. With relative ease, the blonde jumped off the edge of the short building, landing against a garbage dumpster. A second hop, the blue-eyed girl's feet hit the ground. Tilly straightened herself up, staring at the alarmed male, grinning when she noticed the bemused expression on his face.

"Uh, hello?" The awkward man addressed Tilly.

Arming herself with a mischievous smirk, Tilly began walking along the sidewalk, leaving the confused stranger behind her. The blonde threw him a parting glance as she headed in the direction opposite to Roni's bar. He appeared to be travelling toward the little establishment, but Tilly now had a different objective.

What a fortune turn of events, Tilly had accidentally uncovered some exciting knowledge to share with Detective Weaver. The police officer was always bugging Tilly for the latest updates, offering monetary compensation for any information on possible illicit activities happening in the neighborhood. An unanticipated occurrence, the arrival of a puzzling man could be useful insight, especially since he had the secretive demeanor of a reporter or a journalist. If someone was investigating Hyperion Heights, the blonde knew that Detective Weaver would appreciate being promptly notified.

An informant for the authorities, a scam artist, a petty thief, Tilly couldn't envy regular people, since she had a multitude of careers in her repertoire. Whether holding an educational degree from a prestigious college, or by just being advantageously clever, the goal of every profession was to produce a steady income. Although Tilly never formulated intricate plans or rational schemes, as she navigated through the city, a clear destination in mind, the blonde had already mapped out a specific usage for her earnings.

* * *

Nightfall came to cast a foreboding shadow on the streets, an eerie darkness of that draped over buildings and edifices. Stars made warped shapes against the blackness, silver gems that danced across the sky in various patterns. A particularly radiant celestial body glittered from above, shining through the haze of clouds. Antares, reddish and luminous, the center point of the Scorpio constellation.

Most of Tilly's evening had been wasted observing Ivy Belfrey's apartment. Laying on the fire escape staircase of a building that faced the young brunette's residence, Tilly patiently waited for Ivy's mother to leave the premises. Victoria had a scheduled meeting with Roni, over the future of the bar owner's modest property. Staring at the bright astronomical objects was a relaxing way to pass the time, but she hoped that the devious woman would depart soon. 

After hours of lounging on the metal apparatus, the blonde's back ached. Ivy's mother typically opted to stay at her own office building. It was rare to see the negligent maternal figure spending time with her daughter. Stifling back a yawn, Tilly spotted Victoria's luxurious automobile pulling out of the driveway, speeding across the road. Smiling with relief, Tilly launched herself off the elevated surface, stumbling as she touched the ground. 

Combing a hand through her golden locks, Tilly hoped to look a bit more presentable than usual for Ivy, even if the brunette was probably accustomed to seeing her with the red flannel top. She flattened out the wrinkles on her shirt with both hands, positioning the lapels upright. Pleased with her adjustments, the blonde trekked toward Ivy's loft.

Down at the main lobby, the security guard didn't seem too committed to his labor duties. Sneaking by him had been an easy feat, since the lazy man was profoundly asleep on his chair. An elevator ride, a maze of corridors, and Tilly found herself standing in front of Ivy's apartment. Exhaling and inhaling, she quelled her nerves. Tilly started rummaging through her backpack, carefully procuring a petite pastry box.

Unraveling up the flimsy cardboard, a gorgeous cupcake was revealed. Freshly baked red velvet batter, its white meringue frosting had been coated in chocolate syrup and sprinkled with flakes of crystalized sugar. Tilly inserted a green candlestick into the delicacy, hastily sparking a flame onto the wick with her lighter before she rushed to knock on the door. It only took a few seconds for Ivy to answer.

"Did you forget something, Mother?" Ivy opened the door abruptly, assuming that her mother had returned.

Not a single raven curl out of place, the dark-haired girl was wearing a rosy-pink blazer over an ivory blouse. The outfit was accompanied by a short skirt, fitting Ivy's body in such a manner that should be deemed illegal. Blue eyes wandered downward, staring at Ivy's exposed thighs. Rendered momentarily speechless, a blush spread across Tilly's cheeks.

"W-What? Tilly?" Ivy gasped, stepping outside and shutting the door behind her, "You can't be here right now. I have to babysit my stepniece for a couple of weeks."

"Oh?" Tilly regained her composure.

Tugging down her jacket, Ivy began frowning at Tilly. She crossed her arms, displaying a more distant and reserved disposition. Ivy was reconstructing the pretentious attitude that she used to flaunt around when Tilly had first met her. Twitching a perfectly trimmed eyebrow upward, Ivy glanced curiously at the item in Tilly's hand.

"Happy birthday!" Tilly cheered softly, presenting Ivy with the cupcake.

"But it's _not_ my birthday." Ivy huffed out an impatient sigh, bringing a hand up to rub her forehead.

A migraine was developing in her skull; it had been a stressful day for Ivy. Certain worrisome events were unfolding, the undelayable arrival of Henry Mills, his fated encounter with her stepsister, Jacinda. The resilience of their true love. The brunette's fabricated world, at the risk of falling apart, being jeopardize by arbitrary forces that Ivy couldn't control. She honestly didn't have time for Tilly's nonsensical behavior. 

"But you admitted to being a _Scorpio_ , which means that your birthday ranges from today, October the twenty-third, to November the twenty-second." Tilly explained with an unyielding grin, "So, I'll have to celebrate each day until I get to your actual birthday."

Her expression softening, Ivy realized that the blonde must have been contemplating this elaborate idea for a long while. During the past several years, the brunette had blatantly ignored her birthday. Not many people would even remember the date, the sole individuals who cared enough for Ivy to honor the occasion were deceased. Anastasia. Fond memories of resting her head on the older girl's lap, a hand massaging through Ivy's scalp. Her sister's voice reading textbooks on astrology, the reason why Ivy knew anything about zodiac signs.

Reaching out for the cupcake posted on the Tilly's palm, the corners of Ivy's mouth quirked up into a wide smile. A flickering green candlestick in the center of the creamy icing, Ivy blew out the flame. A single wish, the dark-haired girl's optimistic desire to spend the rest of her birthdays alongside Tilly. It was stupid and childish, but when she glimpsed into the blonde's eyes, Ivy saw the same blind hope shining across those two cerulean irises. 

"You're an idiot." Ivy murmured, despite the harsh words, her tone brimmed with adoration.

"But I'm _your_ idiot." Tilly whispered charmingly. 

The brunette took a stride forward, placing her hand on the collar of Tilly's shirt, toying with the cotton fabric. Ivy sighed wistfully, knowing that under different circumstances, she would eliminate the distance between them and kiss the taller girl senselessly. Knuckles tracing along Tilly's jawline, Ivy brushed her thumb over the blonde's lips, their unique gesture of affection.

Dropping her arm down, Ivy leaned closer to the golden-haired girl. Fingers clenching around the hemline of Tilly's top, she surveyed the cupcake in her other hand. Ivy wasn't able to stop smiling, ducking her head sheepishly. The brunette finally had someone who cared enough to think about her birthday. It was a silly sentiment, to celebrate the occasion on a daily basis, but no amount of pragmatism could convince Ivy's heart to stop thrashing erratically. 

"In four days, my stepniece has a ballet recital, at three in the afternoon. Victoria will be there." Ivy bit her lower lip, "While both of them are attending that horrid event, I'll have some time to myself. If you _promise_ not to show up unannounced here again, I promise to go with you anywhere."

"Well, I know why the ruthless Victoria Belfrey can't see me hanging around her precious daughter." Tilly teased, "But does your stepniece hold any leverage over you?" 

"No, it's just that... Well, she sort of hates me" Ivy let out a wry chuckle, "But back to my proposal, do you agree to my terms?"

Lucy, a small girl who believed in fairytales, where her mother, Jacinda, had been a heroic princess, and her father, was a man who could break the curse that afflicted Hyperion Heights and all its residents. Victoria Belfrey, the evil witch who has summoned the malevolent spell, aided by her loyal minion, Ivy. Her stepniece's creative ramblings were treated as the product of an overactive imagination. Nevertheless, neither Jacinda nor her young daughter, held Ivy in very high regard, she was simply viewed as Victoria's faithful helper. 

The brunette couldn't help but fear that Lucy's stories might affect Tilly's perception of her. In a recent turn of events, Victoria was challenging Jacinda over child custody, determined to become Lucy's sole legal guardian. Guilty by association, Tilly wouldn't be thrilled to hear how Ivy was involved in a process that intended to separate a mother from her daughter.

"Deal." Tilly chirped gleefully, "As long you promise me that your birthday doesn't fall on one those four days." 

"It doesn't, I promise." Ivy nodded, "Now go. Before my stepsister's miniscule spawn sees you." 

"Alright, alright." Tilly smirked, as she remained near the brunette, "It's a date then, as friends, of course."

"Yes, of course." Ivy grinned widely, releasing her grip on the edge of blonde's shirt, "Goodnight, Tilly."

"Goodnight, Miss Ivy." Tilly chimed.

Rectifying her posture with a playful motion, Tilly seized one of the brunette's wrists, bowing down slowly. The ring on the taller girl's thumb tickled Ivy's skin, the cool sensation of being caressed by metal. Tilly's lips pressed against the back of Ivy's hand, gracefully bestowing a chaste kiss.

The dark-haired girl shook her head, a faint pink blemish colored both cheeks. Tilly was amused by the reaction, flashing Ivy a final smirk before she skipped away. Flustered and conflicted, Ivy waved at Tilly, watching the blonde disappear down the hallway.

A temporary distraction, there was a limit to how complacent Tilly could be. The restrictive conditions of their relationship would eventually test the strength of the blonde's tolerance. Although Tilly had been patient, she wasn't going to wait around for a young woman who refused to kiss her. 

Palm pressed to her own chest, Ivy's anxiety was eliciting cardiac palpitations. A peck on the back of her hand, a frightening action. If Tilly made a romantic advance, the dark-haired girl would be stuck in an impossible situation. Ivy needed to come up with a feasible solution to her predicament, before it was too late and she no longer had anything left to lose.


	22. Tuna Pellets

Chapter 22

Tuna Pellets

* * *

 

Sunbeams casted down over the Belfrey Towers, reflecting light across the glass sheets that encased the building. A relatively peaceful morning, employees scurried through the hallways and cubicles. The clicking sound from staplers impaling sheets of paper. The soft taps of fingers pressing onto keyboards. Every staff member was stationed at their own post, occupied with a variety of mundane tasks and repetitive errands. 

As lead executive assistant, Ivy was seated at the receptionist desk, already counting the minutes until the clock rang in the arrival of three in the afternoon. Opting to abstain from her usual dark clothing, she had worn a tight satin blouse, patterned with bright shades of green and yellow. Ivy wanted to look perfect for her date with Tilly, as friends. Knowing that blonde favored a natural complexion, she had even applied a lighter tone of pink lipstick.

Tapping her pen incessantly, the brunette fidgeted around in the chair for a bit, agitated by a potent mixture of anxiety and boredom. Glimpsing at one hand, she noticed that her nails were too long, a flaw that must be corrected. Procuring an emery board, Ivy began smoothing out her fingertips.

A reverberating chime echoed through the edifice. Metallic elevator doors opened, and Jacinda came rushing out. Her dark irises scanned across room, finally focusing in on Ivy. With an irritated huff, she headed toward the dark-haired girl, clearly upset. Jacinda slammed her backpack on the counter, demanding Ivy's attention.

Her eyelashes fluttered, the brunette lifted her gaze to meet Jacinda's aggressive glare. Ivy's face maintained a neutral disposition, unyielding to her stepsister's combative demeanor. Ivy often found herself stuck in the middle of the endless war between Victoria and Jacinda.

"Lucy's ballet recital, Victoria was supposed to leave a ticket." Jacinda muttered, trying to calm herself.

"My mother decided that the performance is now a charity event for disadvantaged children." Ivy replied with a cruel smirk, "The tickets are five-fifty each. No exceptions."

"Five-hundred and fifty dollars?" Jacinda yelled.

Working at some local food restaurant, Jacinda barely made enough money to pay the rent. It was evident that Victoria's philanthropic idea to raise the price of the admission tickets for the ballet recital had been full of malicious purpose. Ivy buried the small part of her conscious that felt sympathy for the older brunette. Even despite her misfortune, Jacinda's life was far richer than Ivy's entire existence. A multitude of loyal friends, an admiring daughter, coddled by Ivy's own father, and destined to find a path back to Henry Mills, the love of her life. Jacinda should be the one pitying her stepsister.

"I could always take a credit card if cashflow is a problem." Ivy quipped dismissively.

The doors of Victoria's conference room opened, investors and business analysts marched out. Jacinda spotted her stepmother amongst the herd of people. She stomped toward the short-haired woman, leaving Ivy alone with her musings once more. The raven-haired girl groaned to herself as she watched Jacinda and Victoria argue, preferring to block out their shrill voices.

Fumbling through her purse, Ivy pulled out a bottle of nail polish. _Emerald Green_. A color that matched the design on her blouse. Adding the cosmetic lacquer to each fingertip, her mouth shifted into an absentminded smile. Self-indulgence had always been the brunette's greatest weakness, but her mind kept wandering elsewhere, to thoughts of Tilly, the golden-haired girl who made Ivy feel a little less lonely.

* * *

From the outside, the facility appeared to be a regular café. Tall window panels, transparent to display a vast dining area, brimming with small tables and cozy chairs. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee infested the air, fumes that served to attract customers to the shop. The image of two cats twirling around in a circle was depicted on the front door, a usual choice of logo for a restaurant. Located in Seattle's most popular commercial district, the restaurant had a commendable number of people lounging around in the exterior seats.

Several miles away from Hyperion Heights, Ivy wondered why Tilly had led her to this particular establishment. The commute on foot had been a considerably large distance, it didn't make much sense for the destination to be a simple food place. Standing at the street corner of a busy road intersection, Ivy felt the blonde grab a hold of her hand.

The steady red light instructed all the motorists travelling in an adjacent direction to stop. Tilly fingers interlocked with the brunette's own, giving her a gentle squeeze. The traffic signal was informing pedestrians that it was now safe to trek along the crosswalk. Tilly guided Ivy through the crowds, navigating them toward the peculiar coffee shop.

A mischievous glint sparked across the blonde's blue irises as they arrived at the establishment, she released her grip on Ivy's hand. Skipping on ahead, Tilly smiled at the dark-haired girl, gallantly holding the door open for her. With a secretive side-glance, it almost seemed as though Ivy was the main component of a joke, and only Tilly knew the punchline.

"Here we are." Tilly announced cheerfully, "Happy Birthday!"

"Ugh. It's _not_ my birthday." Ivy shook her head, "But thank you."

"So, that eliminates today, October the twenty-seventh." Tilly smirked playfully, "I'll just have to try again tomorrow."

With a reluctant sigh, the brunette sauntered through the entrance. She was _actually_ disappointed. Inviting someone to drink a cup of coffee was a relatively normal option when it came to dates. Ivy would never admit that she expected the blonde to select a less dull setting for their outing. She had grown accustomed to Tilly's eccentric and spontaneous ideas.

"I have no clue as to why you made us walk half-way across the city for a bland cup of coffee." Ivy complained in her usual haughty tone.

"You're right." Tilly nodded as Ivy entered the shop, "You have _no clue_ as to why."

Stepping inside the seemingly generic facility, the familiar scent of hot coffee and scrumptious pastries slipped into Ivy's nostrils. A bored expression on her face, the brunette suddenly felt something brushing against her leg. Wearing one of her usual short skirts, she was startled as an unidentified fuzzy object caressed her bare skin. With a jump, Ivy glanced down to see a pair of jade-green eyes gleaming back at her.

Fluffy white fur with dispersed blotches of black, the cutest cat that Ivy had ever seen was currently circling around her foot, begging to be touched. A soft meow, the brunette kneeled down, a wide grin spreading across her face. Ivy reached out with both hands, fingers stroking the sensitive area under the feline's neck. A beneficial coincidence for her new friend, the dark-haired girl had spent the entire morning manicuring her nails.

"It's a _cat_ café." Tilly chimed in, crouching down beside Ivy and her cuddly companion, "It serves food like a regular coffee shop, but amongst the company of affable cats."

Ivy took a moment to access her surroundings, becoming slowly aware of all the kittens and cats that were freely crawling over the facility. Black Bombay. Short-haired Siamese. Grey Himalayan. An assortment of breeds, felines roaming along the carpeted floor, sitting on top of the tables, and curled up against the booths. It was quite a spectacular sight to behold. The waiters and waitresses paid no mind, the four-legged residents were an essential part of the business workplace.

Toy mice littered the ground, balls of yarn were unraveled across the chairs.  A scratching post adorned each table, serving as a thematic centerpiece. Plates of cat treats were scattered at each corner of the establishment, sustenance for the coffee shop's most important employees. The environment resembled a children's playground, the walls and furniture were painted different shades of blue and pink, to create a joyful ambience.

In spite of the enormous amount of cats living in the restaurant, the atmosphere had a pleasant fragrance. Boiled coffee beans emitted potent fumes that overpowered the feline odor. The petite animals were well-behaved, greeting the customers with enthusiastic congeniality, their bushy tails eagerly wagged when a patron dotted on them.

"I reserved a spot for us, ahead of time." Tilly tapped the brunette's shoulder.

The golden-haired girl pointed to an empty dinning booth, where two placemats had been arranged on the glossy surface. Instead of verbally replying, Ivy simply smiled at Tilly, looking at the blonde with warm fondness. Performing a small hop, the audacious feline pounced onto Ivy's lap, pleading for recognition. Nuzzling against the brunette's chest, wisps of pale hair were sprinkling over the satin fabric of her expensive shirt, but she didn't seem to mind.

Lifting herself off from the ground, Tilly extended a hand out for Ivy to grab, an offer that the brunette accepted. Holding on to the multicolored creature, Ivy stood up, inclining toward the taller girl. She stumbled on her skirt, legs wobbling because of the form-fitting garment. Tilly was quick to wrap an arm around Ivy's waist, stabilizing her back up on both feet.

The brunette's breath hitched due to the sudden close proximity, a response that Tilly noted. Ivy gulped nervously, heart pounding against her chest, the common primary effect that Tilly's touch had on the dark-haired girl's body. Both young women stared at each other tenderly for a brief moment, before a meow from the pertinent cat snapped them out of their lovestruck daze.

"We should give this little guy a name." Tilly cleared her throat in an attempt to diffuse the tension, "Let's see, he's black and white, like a cow, or a..."

"You want to name him what exactly?  _Cow_?" Ivy grimaced in disapproval, unimpressed with the blonde's suggestion.

"Or a bunny!" Tilly added excitedly, "Bunny, the sociable cat."

Although the dark-haired girl released a breath of exasperation, she didn't argue with the second name choice. Tilly accepted the lack of rebuttal as a victory, and began escorting Ivy and the recently baptized cat, _Bunny_ , to their seats. As Ivy slide into one side of booth, the feline settled against the brunette's arms, purring with contentment. Refusing to sit down, Tilly excused herself with a wordless head gesture, communicating that she was going to the front counter.

Left alone with Bunny, the brunette analyzed her pint-sized associate scrupulously. Scruffy coarse fur, the creature was thin, rather bony. Her fingers combed over his fur, touching the skin buried beneath. A jagged engraving. Ivy observed a deep scar behind the cat's right ear, she discerned that Bunny must have been victimized by his previous owners. Ivy felt incomprehensible anger, outraged by the mere fact that people were capable of such heinous actions. It was difficult to imagine what kind of human being could be cruel enough to wound a defenseless animal.

Lightly scratching Bunny's head, Ivy empathized with the cat. Tossed aside and abused, yearning to find someone who would care, longing to trust again. It was rather endearing, how Bunny still craved physical contact, even if he had been injured in the past. Ivy couldn't relate to him on that aspect, she didn't share in his sense of optimism.

Consumed by her thoughts, the brunette failed to perceive that Tilly was approaching until she saw a food tray appear on the table. Two mugs of hot coffee, a bowl of tuna pellets for Bunny, and a huge platter full of pastries. Madeleine cookies, blueberry muffins, glazed donuts. A sole fudge brownie had been positioned in the middle, encircled by the cluster of sweets. The chocolate concoction was impaled by a red candlestick, fire flickering from the wick. Locking eyes with the blonde, Ivy giggled, puffing out a breath to extinguish the tiny flame.

"Sit beside me." Ivy requested softly, unable to find a suitable fashion for conveying her gratitude.

Tucking a loose strand of ebony hair behind her ear, Ivy scooted across the cushioned bench. Tilly was happy to oblige, lowering herself down, next to the brunette. The cat dropped from Ivy's arms and onto the surface of the table. Bunny meowed with delight, bobbing his tail, as if he were celebrating Tilly's impromptu return.

Ivy stroked Bunny's back, combing through his white fur. The blonde gazed upon the unlikely couple, amused by how Ivy handled the cat such gentility. Bunny purred audibly, leaning up rub his nose against the dark-haired girl's face. With a full-hearted laugh, Ivy kissed the feline's snout. A brief peck, the display of fondness between the brunette and the animal had turned Tilly's grin into a frown.

Her stomach churned with a dull ache. Tilly's benign admiration for the pair's comradeship quickly contorted into bitter envy. The venturesome feline was accomplishing a high level of intimacy with Ivy in just a few minutes, while during the course of a month, Tilly had barely been able to obtain a casual coffee date. Tugging at her brown skirt, Tilly scoffed. An absurd notion, the being unbearably jealous a cat.

"Are you allowed to adopt any of these cats?" Ivy asked, her voice sounded despondent.

"Yes, it's pretty much encouraged. These cats all go back to an animal shelter at the end of each day." Tilly explained, "Why do you ask? Thinking of taking Bunny home with you after just one date?"

"Maybe in the near future." Ivy mused, giving Tilly a lopsided smirk, "For now, there's only one _stray_ that I'm interested in."

Ripping open a packet of sugar, Tilly chuckled as she poured the crystalized powder into one of the mugs and placed it near Ivy's arm. Extremely sweetened black coffee, the raven-haired girl's unique way of preparing the caffeinated beverage. Tilly plucked two fudge brownies from the plate, transferring them onto a napkin. Chocolate, Ivy's favorite dessert, Tilly allocated the rectangular slabs in front of the brunette. She had studied Ivy profusely, as if her mannerisms and quirks were sacred texts that required memorization.

" _Meow_." A high-pitch cry.

Both young women giggled at Bunny's impatience. Complying with the cat's demands, Tilly shoved a bowl of nourishment in Bunny's direction. Sniffing around for a second, the dauntless feline didn't hesitate to dive into his fish-flavored treats. The crunching of tuna pellets between sharp teeth, an adorable noise. Bunny enjoyed the tasty meal, as Ivy massaged the back of his neck, bursting with contagious laughter. The blonde was thrilled to see that Bunny had brought the dark-haired girl so much joy, even if Tilly desired to be the reason for how Ivy's mouth kept shifting into beaming smiles.

Oblivious to her blue-eyed companion's troubling self-doubts, Ivy moved closer to Tilly, leaning her head against the taller girl's shoulder. She pressed her body into Tilly's side, coiling a hand around the blonde's forearm. When Ivy gave her a tender nudge, Tilly felt her resentment dissipating. While the bicolored feline had proven to be a worthy adversary, Tilly was confident that she had won the battle for Ivy's affections.


	23. Detestable Creatures

Chapter 23

Detestable Creatures

* * *

 

On the outskirts of the prosperous hospitable lands, lied a forgotten primordial terrain. Tall evergreen trees soared up into the sky, encasing the forest in a tent of darkness. The centuries-old plants with sprawling limbs guarded the shadows, blocking out any sunlight. Grains of mold begrimed the rotting bark, painting trunks in an intense shade of black. Large predators lurked in every corner of the secluded ecosystem, salivating over the prospect of trapping any sort of naive prey. 

The decaying air and stifling ambience provided the perfect abode for all kinds of detestable creatures. In the dense leaves, spiders clutched their snare-strings, their webs shimmered with droplets of dew. Combs of putrid moss peppered the mulchy floor. A pungent odor wafted from every sentient being, whether it be a type of flora or fauna. Bewailing sounds echoed through the deep woods, unidentifiable and ominous.

Most wandering travelers loitered near lakes and ponds, never straying off from the marked paths. The isolated wilderness became a sanctuary reserved for the people who didn't want to be found and were valiant enough to risk the dangers. Cold breeze filled the atmosphere of the empty and desolate environment.

Drizella trudged onward, stomping on the mud. Her boots squished against the wet dirt, sinking farther into the earth with each step that she took. The brunette held a small book in her hand, opened to a page that depicted a glossy, red mushroom. A rare poisonous fungus, Drizella had learned that the toxin in its entrails was magical, exhibiting the power to administer a dreadful incantation. If a person allowed the sprout's venom to come in direct contact with their skin, then a malignant spell would be casted over them. The afflicted individual would no longer be able to stand in close proximity to their one true love.

It was an ingenious scheme. If Drizella could acquire the bewitched mushroom, she only had to smear its poison onto the flesh of either her stepsister, Ella, or of the older girl's destined soulmate, Henry Mills. Without the cleansing energy generated from their true love's kiss, Drizella could invoke an unbreakable version of the curse that Regina had told her about, a revolutionary achievement. The student vowed to surpass her master, and fulfill the sinister promise that she made to Lady Tremaine. Her mother was going to suffer in agonizing torment, and Drizella would finally be free to live her own life.

Arriving at a outwardly empty riverbank, Drizella closed the book, shoving it into her satchel bag. She pulled out a canteen, determined to fill the container with water before resuming her meticulous exploration of the dark forest. Nearing the edge of the stream, Drizella crouched down on a flat patch of grass, leaning over to dunk her flask into the refreshing liquid.

A ripple in the surface of the stream, followed by a thunderous splash. Drops fell into Drizella's eyes, blinding her for a moment. She abruptly stood up, adjusting her vision. The brunette was startled when the image of a fully naked young woman came into focus. Mouth agape, Drizella shamelessly stared at the female's body, paralyzed by shock. She had never seen another girl in such a state of nudity. Emerging from the water, the stranger sauntered out of the river.

Golden curls that barely passed down her shoulders, a yellow mane of glistening wet locks. Residual water hung to the girl's skin, one sparkling droplet slid down into the valley between her bare breasts, navigating across the muscles of a toned abdomen. Frozen in place, Drizella studied the curves of the blonde's figure as if they were contours on a treasure map, revealing a stunningly gorgeous woman, more precious than a chest full of priceless gems.

"Enjoying the scenic view?" A cheerful voice interrupted Drizella's blatant leering.

Moving her gaze upward, she discovered a familiar pair of cerulean irises. The brunette was confronted by the audacious waitress from the royal ball, the girl who had loosened Drizella's corset. She wore the same smug grin, looking at the brunette with an amused expression on her face. Despite being completely undressed; the blonde made Drizella feel as if she was the one who had been overwhelmingly exposed.

"Are you going to cover yourself up anytime _soon_?" Drizella snapped, cheeks blushing bright red.

The brunette twisted around briskly, facing away from the young woman. She listened the golden-haired girl laugh, the thumping of feet across the grass. Hearing the rustling sound of fabric, it appeared that the blonde was putting on her clothes. Intrigued by the beautiful stranger, Drizella wanted to look back, but was afraid that she might embarrass herself again.

"You can turn back around now." The young woman addressed Drizella.

Pivoting on a heel, Drizella spun toward the enigmatic blonde. An open leather bag laid on the ground, filled with a collection of disorganized trinkets and wrapped provisions. Fingers tying together the remaining laces, the bodice of her dress was poorly fastened and the skirt had quite a few wrinkles. Golden hair messy and tangled, she didn't behave like a proper lady. 

Displaying a blunt and tactless disposition, the blue-eyed girl lacked conventional manners. Journeying through the forest alone, bathing in plain sight at an easily accessible river, she led a very carefree life. A bold adventurer, her appeal was rugged, a brand of charisma that would be traditionally attributed to intrepid young men. Not that the blonde possessed any actual masculine traits. With elegant facial features, she was the most alluring girl that Drizella had ever laid eyes upon.

"My name is Alice, might as well introduce myself formally, since you already saw me rather, _informally_." The golden-haired girl winked suggestively at Drizella.

Adorning a suspicious frown, Drizella folded her arms, unimpressed by Alice's presumptuous demeanor. Everything about the blonde was infuriating her, but she didn't know why. Drizella's heart sped up when Alice's blue eyes glanced in her direction, a thought-provoking reaction that the dark-haired girl chose to ignore. 

"Drizella." The brunette replied curtly.

"Priscilla?" Alice quirked an eyebrow.

"No, with a _D_."

"Drusilla?"

" _Dri_ -zella." 

"Oh, got it!" Alice nodded, "Donatella."

"You're an idiot." Drizella huffed.

Alice brought a hand up to cover her mouth, hiding the slight giggle that fell from her lips. Feigning an inability to pronounce the dark-haired girl's name, she enjoyed teasing Drizella. A stern scowl, the brunette attempted to seem intimidating, but in actuality, she looked incredibly adorable. Alice remembered seeing her at the royal ball, the same pretentious attitude, the young woman whose corset had almost choked her to death.

The golden-haired girl's idle musings were interrupted by the loud crash of thunder. Taking a glimpse at the grey clouds looming in the horizon, Alice knew that she should start seeking shelter from the impending tempest. The blonde recalled spotting a cave during her hike to the riverbank, only a kilometer north from where she stood.

"There's a storm coming." Alice announced, gathering up her belongings.

"What?" Drizella tilted her head, watching as the blonde swung the strap of her leather bag over one shoulder.

Judging from the glint of confusion flashing across Drizella's auburn irises, the brunette was obviously not much of a survivalist. A lavish, silk cloak hung around her neck, raven curls were pristinely braided back. Only a person with enough wealth to afford lodging at a luxurious inn would be able to stay so clean and well-groomed. A puzzling notion, there was something attractive about a spoiled rich girl who dared to venture off into such a frightening forest by herself.

Alice's eyes began to twinkle with an unusual spark of something; Drizella couldn't quite pinpoint exactly what it was. The blonde waged a sort of debate with herself, pondering a decision. Drizella felt self-conscious under the scrutiny of Alice's intent gaze. 

"Well, come on." Alice beckoned, approaching Drizella, "I know a place where we can wait until the storm passes."

Reaching out with her hand, Alice tugged at the raven-haired girl's sleeve. A brazen move. She coiled her fingers around Drizella's wrist, unceremoniously dragging her along. It was an impertinent gesture, especially since Alice had experienced how tumultuously the brunette could react to an unwanted touch. Not hearing any resistance from Drizella, the blonde started walking toward the caves.

An apprehensive sentiment within Drizella was begging her to break away from the blonde's grip. Allowing the perplexing girl to grab a hold of her arm, the brunette's heart overcame the brain's inhibitions. The truth was rather pathetic, but no one had ever treated Drizella in such a lackadaisical fashion, and it felt exhilarating, to refrain from being Lady Tremaine's untouchable daughter.

Neither young women made a comment about their previous encounter, both acting as if this was the first time that they had met. A humble servant and an esteemed maiden, their polarizing social statuses didn't matter in the middle of the woods. Drizella Tremaine, unloved daughter of a cruel woman, on a quest for unrelenting vengeance. Alice Jones, transient wayfarer, migrating from place to place, without a clear destination in mind. Their surnames forgotten, each with a different rationalization, but converging on the same motive; the two girls would rather pretend to be someone else for a while.

The world had somehow shifted when Drizella permitted Alice to hold her hand. The dark-haired girl often revisited that moment over and over again, haunted by this instant in time, picturing how much suffering both of them would have spared if she had taken a different course of action. Whatever cosmic force continued to reunite them, wasn't strong enough to quell the torment inside of Drizella's soul, but fate's illogical machinations were seldom easy to understand.

* * *

The darkness of night had swept across the city. Although the hallway was quiet and vacant, a flickering light could be seen glimmering from inside of the loft, with a dim glow encasing the aperture. It was already nine in the afternoon. Everyone in the apartment should be fast asleep at that late hour, but life had a way of becoming unpredictable. 

Pushing her front door ajar, Ivy crept into the living room. The television was on, radiantly illuminating the walls, a melancholic shade of blue. Lucy's legs dangled over the edge of the couch, the little girl was wide awake, staring at the huge screen. Hearing Ivy's arrival, she turned around to face her elusive stepaunt.

"Where have you been? My ballet recital ended hours ago." Lucy asked, her voice laced with irritation.

"I don't answer to _you_." Ivy scoffed, folding her arms.

"No, you _answer_ to your mother." Lucy quipped, "And you're lucky that she dropped me off and went straight back to her office. Imagine how mad Victoria would be if she knew that you weren't home."

A subtle threat, not too shabby for a prepubescent girl. Extortion. Lucy was trying to make some sort of bargain, using Ivy's mysterious absence as leverage. The older brunette would be proud if she weren't so preoccupied with being outraged.

"What do you want?" Ivy crossed her arms, glaring at Lucy.

"My book. I want it back." Lucy was persistent. 

A hardcover novel full of stories, apparently fictional fairytales. The colorful pages contained woven fragments of a past that Ivy longed to obliterate. On the day that Henry Mills found his way into Hyperion Heights, the brunette had managed to get rid of the problematic book.

The brown-haired man's arrival had ignited a fire within Jacinda, like an unexplainable impulse. Packing up her most essential worldly possessions, Jacinda planned to leave the city with Lucy, to escape from her stepmother's grasp. An unanticipated problem, in this fabricated universe, Jacinda had a troubling history of alcohol abuse, of being an irresponsible guardian. It was a convenient opportunity, Victoria told Ivy to help the authorities track down her stepdaughter and Lucy.

When the mother and daughter duo of fugitives was finally located, Ivy gave Lucy's book to a dutiful police officer. She felt certain that the childish novel would wither away, on top of a dusty shelf inside an isolated storage room reserved for useless evidence. Lucy would never see the content within those pages again, Ivy had ensured that little girl's theories of conspiracy remained without validation.

"No." Ivy shook her head, "You can tell my mother that I was out with a friend. It's not a big deal."

Lucy snickered at the brunette's statement, an unexpected reaction. She jumped off from the couch, shutting down the television with a click on the remote-control device. The young girl exhibited an air of defiance, as if she had won a figurative argument with Ivy.

"You don't have any _friends_." Lucy sneered, "Yeah, you probably have guys who think that you're pretty, and take you out on dates, but that's just silly stuff. My parents have true love, and that's why they'll win against your mother, and against you!"

Ivy visibly flinched, arms dropping to her sides. Nostrils flaring up, she was rendered momentarily speechless, unable to formulate a sensible rebuttal to the petulant child's passionate declaration. That was the problem. Lucy held on fiercely to her beliefs, with ardent conviction, while Ivy knew, that for as much as she tried to deny the truth, her life was hollow and empty.

"Go to your room." Ivy snarled, gritting her teeth.

" _Gladly_." Lucy chirped, exiting the living room with a victorious skip in her step.

Clenching her fists, Ivy just couldn't help but feel a tidal wave of anger wash over her. Lucy's words had cut deeply, unraveling all the concerns that she kept buried. The dark-haired girl didn't want to acknowledge the fact that Tilly wasn't able to genuinely love her. Whatever sensation that the blonde felt for Ivy had no solid basis. Both young women were stuck in an artificial world, condemned to reenact well-written roles, but nevertheless, it was all just an illusion.

A moral dilemma, Tilly was solely the shell of a person. To make matters worse, a loving kiss, the only test that could verify the authenticity of Ivy’s relationship with the blonde, would consequently shatter everything if the results were favorable. It was an unsolvable paradox. Before Ivy realized it, tears were streaming down her cheeks, and the brunette’s entire body shook with uncontrollable sobs. 

Ivy pulled at her hair, fingers crushing into short raven curls. Leaning against the sofa, cradling her head, face burrowed into both hands. She wasn’t crying because of Lucy's accusations, those claims had simply been the catalyst, the kindle that fueled the simmering flame of a nostalgic fear. Nothing was capably of erasing the harrowing truth, that even if Tilly had fallen in love with Ivy Belfrey, the golden-haired girl's other half, Alice, she  _never_ would.


	24. Intensifying Flames

Chapter 24

Intensifying Flames

* * *

 

The distinct change in atmosphere was immediately apparent, the cavern's cold damp humidity provided a sharp contrast to the warm climate of the forest. The smell of rain wafted through the air. Water dripped from the jagged borders of the grotto's entrance. A large fracture engraved on the otherwise solid stone served as an opening to the spacious cavity in the side of a cliff, an array of loose pebbles littering the floor.

A rustic campfire, lit up the walls, bathing the entire tunnel in a flickering orange glow. Drizella wrinkled her nose against the musty aroma permeating in the subterranean place. The brunette was perched on a large log, watching as Alice stroked the intensifying flames. Shoving a couple of leaves and stems into the blaze, the blonde finished fueling the heat source that she had created, seating herself beside Drizella. A peaceful quietude had fallen between them, only the trickling sound of the precipitation reverberated through the cove.

Alice flipped back her hair, adjusting the golden curls to make room for the strap of her leather bag. She rummaged through the contents, pulling out a paper-sealed bundle. Unwrapping the package, a small sandwich was revealed. A whole loaf of wheat bread, split down the middle, filled with generous amounts of ham and cheese. It was cut in half, producing two sections. Grabbing a slice, Alice turned to face the brunette.

"Do you want this half?" Alice asked, her voice resonated through the enclosed space, "It's just ham and cheese. My personal favorite."

Drizella was famished, but accepting Alice's food would reveal that she hadn't packed adequate provisions with her. Rather than admitting such failure to a lower-class girl, the brunette preferred to starve. She looked into Alice's inquisitive eyes and declined quickly, shaking her head from side to side.

"No, thanks." Drizella said firmly.

Cerulean irises glimmered with bewilderment as Alice nodded. Shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly, the blonde began nibbling on one of the sandwiches. A loud grumble, the acoustic ambience of the cave amplified the noise, Drizella's stomach exposed that she was unbearably hungry. Alice grinned knowingly, once again presenting the dark-haired girl with a portion.

Hesitant to take the piece of sandwich, Drizella's eyes darted around. She slowly stretched her arm out, but failed to snatch the offering. Alice noted the conflict bubbling within the brunette, recognizing the emotion. _Pride_. Drizella didn't want to acknowledge that she had wandered off into the forest without any essential supplies. Alice respected the other girl's dignified code of principles, but she wasn't going to let Drizella spend the night without nourishment.

"Take it." Alice insisted, "There's _nothing_ shameful about forgetting to pack food. It can happen to anyone."

Gently grabbing a hold of Drizella's wrist, Alice placed the wedge on the smaller girl's palm. She smiled reassuringly at the brunette, trying to convey a sense of empathy. Understanding the meaning behind Alice's words, Drizella conceded, coiling her fingers around the slab of warm bread.

"Thanks." Drizella relented a nod.

The raven-haired girl's lips pressed into a thin line, quirking upward to resemble something akin to a smile. Drizella's thumb lightly grazed Alice's knuckles as she pulled back her arm, producing a swelling twinge against the brunette's chest. A cliché sentiment, but it needed to be stated on record, no one had ever made Drizella feel this way before. It was a foreign sensation that she couldn't define.

Bringing the bun up to her mouth, she took a small bite. Ham and cheese mixed to form a nostalgic flavor. Salty cured gammon. Unpasteurized fresh brie. Rye bread with a bit of smeared mayonnaise. Drizella's palate could identify each component of the sandwich.

It reminded Drizella of going on picnics with Anastasia, how her older sister enjoyed orange marmalade sandwiches and chamomile tea. Laughter between two girls sitting on top of a blanket in the middle of a meadow, surrounded daffodils and petunias.  Nothing could alter the innocence in these recollections, but Drizella often wondered what kind of young woman Anastasia might have grown up to be. Would she have been doomed to follow in Lady Tremaine's footsteps? To _transform_ into a treacherous fiend?

With these thoughts lurking in her brain, Drizella found relief in knowing that her mother hadn't been able to corrupt Anastasia. Compassionate amber irises, a cheerful smile, her elder sister would always be an idealistic young girl, even as she laid dormant in a glass coffin. The blissful memories from Drizella's youth were locked away in a compartment within her subconscious, far away from Lady Tremaine's sinister reach.

"How much sugar do you take?" Alice pierced the tranquil silence.

The spontaneous scent of peppermint crept into Drizella's nostrils, she snapped out of her daydream, having eaten her sandwich while lost in a reflective daze. As Drizella wallowed in self-pity, Alice had been boiling a kettle of water. Adding a few crushed leaves to the pot, she had procured a fragrant herbal tea. The blonde held a mug in one hand, and a bag of sugar cubes in her other. The light from the campfire shined onto Alice's cerulean eyes, looking at Drizella expectantly.

"Um..." Drizella paused to wipe the bread crumbs from off her lap, "Four."

"You got a bit of a sweet tooth, eh?" Alice teased.

 "Ugh." Drizella groaned at the blonde's gibe, conserving her prickly disposition.

One. Two. Three. Four. Alice plopped the sweetening squares into the hot beverage. She dropped a spoon in the mug, stirring slowly and blowing on the edge. With an amicable grin, Alice handed the porcelain cup over to Drizella, their fingers brushing as the transaction was completed. The brunette just couldn't control the fluttering in her stomach, an involuntary reaction to Alice's touch.

Drizella knew that it wasn't wise to trust a stranger. Paranoia invaded the dark-haired girl's mind. Alice might be a nefarious burglar, or even a minion from the palace, a heinous spy sent by Lady Tremaine to poison her. Contrary to all of Drizella's better judgment, she somehow kept assuming that Alice had benign intentions.

As the blonde hummed a tune to herself, harmonizing with the dripping sound of the rain, Drizella found it difficult to formulate a convincing argument against Alice's innate benevolence. In exchange for no form of compensation, the blue-eyed girl had aided Drizella when she was struggling to breath because of a constraining corset. Alice patiently tolerated the raven-haired girl's unwarranted cruel response, and left without expecting any sort of gratitude.

The brunette lifted the border of the mug up to her parted lips, the alleviating liquid slid down the young woman's throat. Peppermint tea. Drizella hadn't even realized that she was feeling cold until the hot beverage quelled her shivers. Taking another sip, the dark-haired girl shyly glanced at Alice. The blonde was absentmindedly looking out the cavern's exit. A thick curtain of precipitation indicated that the storm had no plans to subside soon.

Illuminated by the blazing campfire, Alice's hair glittered in a golden hue, reminding Drizella of the yellow rays that showered across the sky during a sunset. An elegant nose scrunched up in deep thought, Alice had a captivating face, every emotion that she felt was depicted through her expressions. Drizella could tell that the blonde was contemplating what to do about the unyielding bad weather.

Alice's crescent-shaped eyebrows inclined slightly as she saw Drizella staring at her. The brunette lowered her gaze, cheeks blushing from the mortification of being caught admiring Alice. A set of dazzling white teeth gleamed as the blue-eyed girl grinned widely at Drizella.

"It's still _drizzling_ , Drizella." Alice broke the tension with a lame joke.

"There's nothing funny about this situation." Drizella scoffed, "I don't want to be stuck here for an entire night, especially not with someone as crude and unrefined as you."

Aggression was ironically the brunette's favorite defensive mechanism. If Drizella projected her misplaced anger toward the golden-haired girl, then she could evade discussing how her gaze had been firmly focused on Alice's face. It was an obvious diversion, but the blonde didn't mind, laughing whole-heartedly at Drizella's remark.

"Don't worry, I won't bite." Alice quipped, "Unless you ask nicely."

Releasing a huff of indignation, Drizella rolled her eyes. With feigned annoyance and a dismissive click of her tongue, she faced away from Alice. The brunette started to nervously toy with the sleeve of her cloak, fingers rubbing fabric on the hemline. She grew anxious, overanalyzing the way that Alice's lips were contorted together in lopsided smirk, almost as if she had been _flirting_ with Drizella.

Conversations with Anastasia echoed in the brunette's head, her sister explaining how an individual's true love could be someone of the same gender. In accordance with Anastasia's tales, two girls being together wasn't unheard of, but the concept wouldn't be joyously welcomed, some people had arbitrary prejudices that were impossible to appease. Drizella wanted to follow the normal standards, if the majority of young women yearned for princes, then she shouldn't humor controversial desires.

Dodging sexual advances from another female was relatively easy, mostly because the only girls that Drizella had ever interacted with were her sisters. Female servants hired at the Tremaine Manor had always been older than the matriarch of the house. Lacking age-appropriate women to socialize with, Drizella could hardly discover if she harbored an attraction for them.

Men were uncomplicated. Seductively batting a pair of long eyelashes, wearing tight form-fitting dresses, and decorating her skin with aesthetically pleasing cosmetics, Drizella knew how to handle male suitors. Giggle at idyllic comments, compliment their imagined virtues, and coyly place a comforting touch on their hands. Perform a theatrical role, become the helpless maiden that dashing heroes were supposed to marry.

Her mind lingered on a single occasion of peculiar interest. A meeting that Drizella had with Princess Tiana, the female ruler of a tattered kingdom. Ebony curls, a beautiful facial structure, plump lips. Without experiencing provocation, Drizella acted rudely during her brief encounter with the princess, and now she had deciphered the reason behind her needlessly awful behavior.

Sarcasm. Hostility. Arrogance. To her credit, Drizella was consistent. When anything made her feel uncomfortable or insecure, the brunette would lash out ruthlessly. It effectively repelled anyone from caring about Drizella, men and women alike, people didn't bother to budge through her emotional barriers.

"So, why were you exploring this inhospitable forest?" Alice interrupted Drizella's brooding with a basic inquiry.

Her tone maintained its amicable disposition. Alice was never fazed by the dark-haired girl's hollow insults, it seemed impossible to offend her. Drizella had no idea how to maneuver around the blonde, her typical combative strategies weren't functioning. Alice didn't take Drizella seriously, she could somehow see through the brunette's well-constructed facade.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Drizella narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Alice.

An infantile response, Drizella answered the question with the same question, a technique that might distract children, but was utterly futile against Alice's formidable perception. The blonde grinned nonchalantly, unperturbed by Drizella's surly retorts.

"I'm looking for a particular plant root, one that's said to grow in this area." Alice divulged without inhibition, "Are you foraging for something similar?"

Drizella might as well be honest, the blonde knew more about the forest than she did. There was a chance that Alice could assist her in finding the rare, magical mushroom. With a bit of luck, the golden-haired wouldn't be able to deduce what Drizella planned to do with the enchanted fungus.

Tucking a stray wisp of raven hair behind her ear, Drizella shuffled closer to the blonde. She dug into her satchel bag, pulling out the small book. Flipping through the pages, Drizella located the drawing of the mushroom. Crimson-red, covered with opal spots. She tilted the image in Alice's direction, using the campfire's light to make the picture visible against the darkness.

"I'm looking for this." Drizella stated plainly.

Anger and consternation twinkled across sapphire irises, Alice gasped audibly. Her hand landed on the page, index finger tracing the outline of the mushroom. The blonde alternated from looking down at the book, and back up to Drizella's face. She squinted her eyes, boring a hole into the dark-haired girl's very soul.

"What do you _need_ this for?" Alice demanded, "It's bewitched with an awful curse. The spell keeps you away from the person that you love the most. I can't be with my father because of this demonic sprout! Please, don't go looking for it."

Although she sounded reprimanding, Alice wasn't upset with Drizella. Lunging forward, she cradled the small girl's hands with her own. Genuine concern. Alice was worried about Drizella's well-being. An unforeseeable predicament, the tenderness clearly written on Alice's face made the brunette feel nauseous.

Duplicity, another skill that Drizella could implement masterfully. She had to lie to Alice, and hope that the blonde would lead her to the mushroom. Judging by the golden-haired girl's bout of hysterics, Alice must know how to find the fungus.

"I-I'm a sorceress. I just need the mushroom as an ingredient for a healing potion." Drizella disguised the truth.

"Oh?" Alice blinked, slowly digesting Drizella's revelation.

A shaky stammer, Drizella used to be better at the art of deception. Making false claims to Prince Gregor hadn't been difficult, she could trick men with a coquettish smile, with a cunning aptitude that rivaled even the most ambitious of aristocratic lords. Her competence faltered in the presence of Alice.

"Yes, is that so hard to believe?" Drizella steadied her voice.

"Well, you're just really _pretty_ for a sorceress." Alice smirked, "I always thought most of them were middle-aged hags."

Alice let go of the brunette's hands, and with much chagrin, Drizella found herself missing the contact. Cheeks becoming flustered, the dark-haired girl began shoving the book back into her satchel bag. She had never been afraid of rejection, not to the extent that it frightened her now.

"So, can you tell me where to find the mushroom?" Drizella mumbled with apprehension.

Tapping her chin, the blonde resumed ruminating the request. Blue eyes surveyed Drizella with an intuitive appraisal, and for a minute, the raven-haired girl feared that Alice would unravel her false pretenses. It was disconcerting, Drizella cared way too vehemently about besmirching a random migrant's opinion of her.

The young woman's expression softened, her arm extending toward Drizella. She had finished with her deliberation, Alice was initiating a handshake, a provincial gesture meant to seal the terms of a proposal. 

"Better yet." Alice flourished a beaming smile, "How about I take you there?"

Heart palpitated roughly inside of Drizella's chest, the symptom of a disease that she wasn't capable of diagnosing. Embarking on a journey with Alice, prolonging the time that she would spend near a blonde who was afflicting her with an unknown cardiac condition.

The sensible thing to do was get as far away from Alice as she could. If the golden-haired girl had such an influential sway over her, Drizella would benefit from accumulating distance between them.

Against her own volition, the young woman reached for Alice's hand. Palms pressing against together, the blonde bestowed a feather-light caress upon Drizella's skin. The brunette's pulse quickened, another distressing side-effect generated by Alice's ministrations. It was inconceivable to ferment any form of resentment toward the complaisant girl, especially when she had volunteered to be Drizella's traveling companion.

With flames dancing with the shadows of the cavern, the dark-haired girl surreptitiously studied Alice, her flesh a canvas of oranges and yellows. Never one for poetic allegories, Drizella was rendered linguistically impotent by the blonde, the repercussions implied by that level of weakness shouldn't be ignored.


	25. Auroral Rays

Chapter 25

Auroral Rays

* * *

 

The vibrant colors of the sunrise spread across the sky. Fluffy clouds stained in a pinkish hue, resembling scattered pieces of cotton candy. Beams of oranges and reds shined upon the landscape, enveloping the snow-capped mountains in a glimmering glow. The dark thunderstorms had dissipated during the night, gone without a trace.

Light bathed the tall trees and their dense leaves in a luminous coat of radiance. Nestling on the holes carved into the pliable bark of wooden trunks, birds were delighted to welcome the dawn. Striped sparrows and white-feathered doves, fluttering from branch to branch, in search of juicy worms and crunchy insects.

Stirring against a rocky surface, Drizella awoke to find herself laying on the floor of the cavern, curled up near the scorched remains of the campfire. An unfamiliar woolen blanket was draped over her, the fuzzy cloth had been keeping her warm. Drizella used both hands to push herself from off the ground, shifting to an upright position. Brown eyes scanning around the empty chambers, she was alone.

For a second, the dark-haired girl wondered if it had all been a dream, maybe she simply imagined Alice. It made perfect sense, a beautiful young woman with golden curls, sparkling azure irises, and an unwavering cheerful disposition, Alice sounded too good to be true.

A delicious aroma invaded the ambience, inciting a loud growl from Drizella's stomach. She couldn't quite recognize the smell, but perceived that it was originating from outside the cove. Standing up on her feet, the strap of the satchel bag adjusted around the brunette's torso, Drizella emerged from cliff. Not quite fond of untidiness, the methodical girl folded the woolen blanket and hung it over her arms.

Black kettle heated over a cluster of flames, Alice was crouched on the grass. She swirled a ladle around the unknown substance broiling within the pot. Retrieving water from the river. Building a new campfire. Cooking some type of meal. It was evident that the blonde had been awake for a while.

Her outfit was the same, a humble dress with a red skirt and a bluish-grey bodice, but she appeared to be wearing a set of matching leather gloves now. Alice didn't notice that Drizella had been sauntering toward her, the blonde's attention remained on the cauldron.

Clutching the woolen blanket awkwardly, Drizella deducted that Alice had covered her with the cozy fabric while she slept. An endearing gesture, the brunette couldn't construct a polite statement to convey gratitude. She contemplated how life had been before Lady Tremaine. After so many years of sustaining emotional abuse at the hands of her own mother, Drizella's ability to display proper manners laid dormant, buried by layers of bad habits and masked behind an unbelievably bitter attitude.

Weighing a list of possible remarks that she could make, Drizella cleared her throat. Two blue eyes turned their focus to the dark-haired girl, Alice's mouth contorted into one of those sweet smiles that never failed to unnerve Drizella. A cool and collected approach, that was the brunette's conversational strategy.

"Good morning." Drizella mumbled nonchalantly.

"Good morning!" Alice chimed happily, in stark contrast to Drizella's verbatim greeting.

"Here, I think that this itchy quilt belongs to you." Drizella muttered begrudgingly, sounding more argumentative than she intended to.

"Oh?" Alice grinned, accepting the blanket, "Thank you."

"Whatever." Drizella scoffed, "Are we setting out to find the mushroom?"

"After we eat breakfast." Alice informed her, "Thanks for folding the blanket, that was really nice of you."

Drizella was dumbfounded. She behaved needlessly rude, but in return, the blonde opted to appreciate how the fabric had been molded into a neat bundle. After carefully stuffing the blanket inside her leather bag, the golden-haired girl pulled out two bowls and a pair of utensils.

With the ladle, Alice poured some of her mysterious concoction into each platter. A light brown porridge, Drizella couldn't figure out what the substance was. It seemed too viscous to be a soup or a stew, but with the amount of water included, the dish couldn't be whole-grain rice.

"What is _this_?" Drizella grimaced as the blonde offer her a bowl.

"Oatmeal." Alice chirped, "I promise that you'll love it."

"I'm not a chef, but oatmeal is definitely not supposed to be brown." Drizella swirled the gruel around with a spoon.

"Just try it before you pass judgment." Alice insisted, tugging at the long skirt of Drizella's dress, urging her to sit down.

Staring at the oatmeal with a look of disgust plastered on her face, Drizella obliged Alice, kneeling next to the blonde. Tentatively scooping up a minuscule amount of the pudding, she had no clue how Alice managed to persuade her with just a couple of words. Casting inhibitions aside, Drizella brought the spoon toward her mouth.

A lumpy texture, the groats were combined with milk, added sugar made the mixture excruciatingly sweet. There was an undisclosed ingredient in the oatmeal that gave it a scrumptious flavor. The porridge had been laced with a certain spice, a seasoning that was utterly delicious.

"A lot of cinnamon." Alice revealed, winking at the dark-haired girl, "Which explains the odd coloring."

A glint of purpose in her eyes, Alice noticed how sleeping against the hard ground had loosened up the brunette’s braid. She reached out and brazenly tucked a loose strand of black hair behind the smaller girl's ear. Soft fingertips lightly grazed Drizella's cheeks as Alice reeled back her hand.

Drizella's stomach churned, a sudden pang that she was happy to self-diagnose as being caused by hunger. Her heartbeat had sped up, another presumed symptom of malnutrition. Holding the spoon tightly, her palms were sweating. Drizella thought that acquiring a fever due to the cold temperature inside the cave was the only rational explanation for her particular list of afflictions.

A logical hypothesis, the young woman attempted to convince herself of its validity, until she saw the effervescent smirk on Alice's face. The corners of Drizella's lips moved at their own accord, shifting upward into a full smile, exposing her heavenly white teeth. It had become apparent that Alice's strange illness was highly contagious.

Internally waging a war with herself, the brunette repeated the medical-based assumptions enough times to genuinely believe them. Whispering into Drizella's head, her subconscious presented a different theory, outrageous claims that echoed through the dark-haired girl's mind and shook her down to the core.

* * *

Beneath a fortress of knotting branches, the sun was unable to shower the shrouded terrain with its radiant yellow beams. Dim lighting illuminated the environment, auroral rays that slipped through cracks in between the leaves. The humidity permitted moss lumps to grow freely, forming a mushy mattress of shrubbery over the floor. An organic, composting odor filled the air.

The grasses Drizella stepped on were squishy under her feet, green blades meshing in with mud and dirt. She had been trailing behind Alice for at least an hour, listening to the mockingbirds sing a joyful tune, flying high overhead. As both young women ventured onward, they reached an eerily silent sentinel of the groves.

Shuffling noises came from deep within the interior. Squirrels, fowls, and harmless creatures, scattered away from the area. Alice had mentioned that the magical mushroom could be found at the center of the forest, in the most secluded parts of the ecosystem.

Huge roots sprawling like a thick woven nest, the foliage became brittle and dry. Dead briars and weeds adorned the path. Walking through the tall trees, grime encrusted on their barks, the landscape began to change, distorting to a dark and foreboding scenery. Wilted flowers and sprouts littered the ground. A chilly breeze filled the atmosphere surrounding the two female hikers.

Stumbling on a vine, the brunette's ankle became tangled up in the sticky plant. Tugging against the bramble, her hand grazed a thorn, tearing into the skin. With a whimper, she wobbled backward, losing her balance. Drizella tumbled down, and came in contact with soft surface. Alice had intercepted her fall, arms wrapped around the smaller girl's waist. Out of reflex, Drizella held onto the two sturdy limbs in front of her.

"I've got you." Alice murmured gently.

Having slumped downward, Drizella's head rested on the blonde's chest. She propped herself upright, fingers coiling around Alice's strong forearms. Her brown eyes rose to meet the golden-haired girl's caring gaze. Drizella's pulse quickened suddenly, her lips slightly parted. With their bodies pressing against one another, Alice could feel every erratic heartbeat that the brunette emitted and grew concerned.

"Are you okay?" Alice asked, her palms placed on Drizella's waist.

"Y-Yes." Drizella converted her embarrassment into misplaced anger, "You can let _go_ of me now."

Shrugging off the blonde's hands, Drizella released her own hold on Alice's arms. She marched past the golden-haired girl, distancing herself a few meters away. Alice remained unaffected, smirking as she approached Drizella once again.

"Well, don't worry. There's a clearing over in that direction." Alice claimed, her index finger pointing to the eastern horizon.

"Are you _sure_ that the cursed mushroom can be found here?" Drizella inquired with a distrustful tone.

"No." Alice admitted plainly, "But I hope so. The alternative method of obtaining that mushroom involves leaving this world."

"Are you certifiably insane?" Drizella sneered, "I'm not going to die in order to-"

"No, no, no." Alice waved her hands as she giggled, "I meant we would have to go to another realm. These mushrooms are inexplicably common in Wonderland."

"Then why don't we just go to Wonderland?" Drizella folded her arms, tapping one foot impatiently.

"Because Wonderland is not a fun place to visit." Alice replied brief frown, "Now, come along."

Alice started trudging forward, and with a resigned sigh, Drizella continued following the blonde. She suspected that the nonsensical young woman might be leading them on an aimless expedition. No need to panic, Drizella practiced sorcery. If the situation became problematic, she could teleport herself away in purple haze of magic and abandon Alice. A pang of sadness swelled against Drizella's heart, the suggested contingency plan wasn't unanimously accepted by every component of her being.  

Entering a wide glade, fields of daisies and chrysanthemums decorated the shaded meadow. A solitary bird could be heard from a far, squawking a rhythmic harmony. Alice whistled loudly, joining her beaked companion in creating a haunting melody together.

Spinning around on one heel, Alice glanced at the dark-haired girl, an amicable grin flashing across the blonde's face. Maybe the floral fragrance blowing in the wind had enchanted the brunette, or maybe she just couldn't resist Alice's infectious sense of happiness, but either way, Drizella found herself smiling back.

Shaking her head from side to side, Drizella witnessed as Alice matched every single chirp from the rambunctious fowl, with an equally shrill tweet. After a few minutes, the tiny animal went silent. Drizella chuckled, amused by the fact that Alice had somehow annoyed a bird into submission.

"You actually managed to irritate that bird." Drizella quipped.

"Maybe so, but I also managed to make you laugh." Alice nodded proudly.

Even though she reacted by rolling her eyes at the blonde, Drizella wasn't able to control her brimming laughter. A hand shot up to cover her mouth, the raven-haired girl’s fingers prevented any more giggles from escaping her lips.

A sudden gasp, Alice's mischievous demeanor vanished, her face morphing into a serious expression. She lunged toward Drizella, her hands cradling the brunette's left arm. Startled by Alice's spontaneous movement, Drizella looked down at the appendage that the golden-haired was tenderly holding.

"You're bleeding..." Alice whispered solemnly.

An accurate assessment, blood was dripping down the shaft of the smaller girl's arm. The crimson liquid had been pooling around Drizella's palm. A nasty slash laid on her skin, oozing the precious bodily fluid. Whatever pain the brunette was supposed to be feeling seemed to become overshadowed by the pleasant sensation of having Alice's fingers caress her torn flesh.

"Must have been the thorns from that vine." Drizella muttered.

"I'm sorry." Alice sounded disappointed in herself, "Can you use magic to heal it?"

A basic question, Drizella realized that she had never learned how to use any benevolent spells. Her power was tailored to her malignant desires, polished for ruthless revenge, a notion that Alice wouldn't approve of. Drizella couldn't alleviate her own agony, since she solely knew incantations that were meant to hurt people.

"Uh..." Drizella paused to devise a plausible lie, "I can't utilize magic for my own personal gain."

"Oh, that's really commendable." Alice stared at the brunette with sincere admiration, "A witch cursed my father, applying poison from the mushroom that you are looking for. But you want to use for altruistic means. You are pretty amazing."

The blonde's sapphire irises lit up in such a fashion that made Drizella's already weakened heart stop beating altogether. No one had ever been so pleased with the brunette. Alice granted her a gorgeous smile, digging into her leather bag and retrieving a canteen.

"How many things fit in that leather bag?" Drizella made a good-humored jest.

"Quite a few." Alice opened the flask by pulling out the cork with her mouth.

The golden-haired girl poured water onto Drizella's palm, hoping that it would soothe the injury. With a sleight of hand, Alice procured a silk cloth. She gently dabbed at the brunette's tarnished skin, sanitizing the gaping wound.

With each little stroke, Drizella's breath hitched, a combination of how much the laceration stung and that Alice's thumb was brushing across the jagged skin circling the cut. Drizella melted into the blonde's touch, her auburn eyes tracing out every detail of Alice's face as the taller girl tended to her gash.

Fixated on the prominent birthmark along the left side of Alice's jawline, Drizella felt tempted to press her lips against the blemish, depending on every ounce of willpower to conserve her composure.

Earning Alice's veneration by weaving an intricate web of falsehoods, the brunette was the mistress of deception. She should be mocking the golden-haired girl's naive stupidity, and yet, Drizella found herself hoping that she was truly worthy of Alice's praise, even if only through the promotion of a lie.


	26. Converging Groves

Chapter 26

Converging Groves

* * *

 

Night fell upon the aquamarine sky, the sun retreating into its resting place on the western horizon. Brilliant stars began glinting down on the forest, fluorescent silvery gems pinned into a black tapestry. A full moon hung serenely in the distance, casting an opal glow over the elongated trees.   
  
Crows and owls substituted the smaller, and more colorful birds that were once perched on the branches. Nocturnal predators started to lurk among the thick bushes, searching for careless prey. Under a shroud of darkness, dangerous creatures remained hidden, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.   
  
Clouds of vaporous fog enwrapped the top of the converging groves. Sieves of mist caressed the lichen-encrusted wooden bark of the trunks. A phantasmal gas, spreading with deadly intent. Haunted. Foreboding. Sinister. The metallic, tinkling sound of a stream could be heard from a far.   
  
Arriving at a lagoon, Alice stopped walking and turned around to face Drizella. Behind the blonde, a sheet of water reflected ripples of ivory light. The pool looked like a polished mirror of liquid, with skeins of white swirls slithering slowly on the surface. A narrow spillway led to an adjacent pond. Boulders colonized the edges of the basin, buffed with pillows of moss, an enchanting scenery.  
  
The golden-haired girl was concerned, furrowing her eyebrows as she weighed her options. Alice seemed worried, marching toward the brunette with an uncharacteristically serious demeanor. She reached out for Drizella's arm, her fingers encircling the young woman's wrist.  
  
"We should head back." Alice suggested, tugging at the brunette's sleeve, "Now."  
  
"What? No!" Drizella hollered as she broke her hand loose from Alice's grip, "We've been traveling the entire day because you said-"  
  
"Keep your voice down!" Alice stated, oscillating her hands in an effort to quiet down Drizella.  
  
"I do _not_ take orders from you." Drizella quipped, folding her arms, "I've been following you around like a fool, for hours, even though I could tell that you were lost. This has been a colossal waste of my time!"  
  
"Look, it's too dangerous. Predators come out to haunt during the night. Let's just head back and I'll take you to Wonderland in the morning." Alice tried to compromise.  
  
Alice's voice was interlaced a sweet tone that only made the dark-haired girl feel enraged. Accustomed to Lady Tremaine's patronizing attitude, she misinterpreted the blonde's empathy for condescension. Drizella hated being talked to as if she were ignorant and inexperienced, even in cases where the sentiment truthfully applied.   
  
"No, we'll keep going until we find the mushroom because-"  
  
"Hush!" Alice interjected harshly.  
  
"How dare you!" Drizella yelled, indignation clearly written on her face, "I won't be treated like a-"  
  
A clamorous howl interrupted Drizella's childish tantrum. The blonde's eyes widened, and she lunged toward Drizella. A haste movement, the raven-haired girl didn't realize what was happening until the deed had been done. Alice grabbed both of Drizella's arms, twisting her around. With a violent jerking motion, Alice switched positions with the startled brunette.  
  
"Move!" Alice desperately beckoned Drizella, shoving the smaller girl away from her.  
  
A terrifying growl, Alice stood in the path of an impending animal attack. A snarling creature scratched her stomach, three piercing slices, eliciting a countermeasure from Alice, and she swung a whopping punch. The blonde's clenched fist connected with the beast's jaw, her tightened knuckles struck a decent blow. The animal moaned, paws fumbling on the ground.

Drizella had only heard a loud thud after being pushed aside by Alice. Stumbling on both feet, the dark-haired girl straightened her posture, glancing in the direction of the scuffle. Alice had intercepted an assault aimed at Drizella. The brunette's heart thumped as she watched the horrendous incident unraveling before her.   
  
From the shadows, a grey wolf came into sight. Scruffy fur covered an enormous muscular frame, moonlight gleaming across its yellow irises. With a slightly opened muzzle, the savage dog displayed a set of razor-sharp teeth, saliva dripping from its jaw.

Alice held onto her abdomen, wincing in pain. Blood gushing out of enormous lacerations. The ferocious canine's claws had penetrated through the thin bodice of Alice's dress and tore into her flesh. On wobbly legs, the blonde refused to step aside, placing herself in the middle of the monstrous quadruped and her raven-haired friend.  
  
"R-Run, Drizella. Now." Alice croaked out, "I'll keep him busy. Run, and don’t look back."  
  
"I am not a helpless damsel in distress!" Drizella declared sternly, “You can’t just ask me to leave.”  
  
"P-Please listen to me..." Alice could barely speak, "Listen to me, t-this time..."  
  
Bile built up in Drizella's throat, the bitter taste of guilt. Alice had been begging her to remain silent, but she chose to behave like a petulant infant, wailing out useless complaints. Drizella knew that she was responsible for the wounds on Alice's torso. The most shameful part of the entire situation, despite the brunette's transgressions, Alice didn't hesitate to jump in front of Drizella, shielding her from the wolf's onslaught.      
  
Color draining from the blonde's face, sweat beading on her forehead, Alice stayed erect. She anchored her heels to the floor. Chest heaving up and down, Alice struggled against her body's fatigue. Drizella couldn't process the fact that the golden-haired girl was willing to pay the ultimate price in order to protect her.  
  
" _Grr_." A guttural groan.  
  
The brown-eyed girl's thoughts were disturbed by a deafening snarl. The wolf shifted its posture, preparing for combat. Bearing its pointy fangs, the carnivore glared at Alice, crouching down and reforming its battle stance. Given the severe status of her traumatic abrasions, the blonde wouldn't be able to withstand another injury.  
  
"Alice!" Drizella cried out.  
  
Taking several strides forward, the raven-haired placed a hand behind Alice's lower back. Weakened from the loss of blood, the blonde collapsed against Drizella's shoulder. Alice's arm extended over the brunette's chest, fingers clutching the fabric of the smaller girl's cloak.   
  
Agitated by Drizella's maneuver, the wolf pounced toward the two young women. A formidable leap, the vicious creature protracted its talons. Lifting a hand in front of herself, Drizella's palm emitted luminous energy, invoking a spell that paralyzed the beast in mid-flight.  
  
Her nostrils flaring, murderous intent was plastered all across Drizella's face, she coiled her knuckles, gesturing a chokehold. Floating and frozen, the wolf squirmed around, limbs flailing sporadically. Hand squeezing close, mimicked onto the animal's esophagus through the machinations of Drizella's incantation. She undoubtedly desired to smother the canine to death, taking pleasure in the way that the monster suffered. Impressed by her own power, the brunette smirked victoriously, a pair of auburn irises sparkled with a glint of malice.  
  
An unexpected contact, cold fingers wrapped around Drizella's outstretched wrist. The brunette looked down toward her shoulder, wondering why Alice was preventing her from suffocating the wolf with magic. Parted blue lips, the blonde gasped for oxygen.  
  
"D-Don't, Drizella." Alice spoke hoarsely, "Killing b-blackens the soul, even when its justified... Don't kill."  
  
With a perplexed expression painted on her face, Drizella was at a loss for words. Even as she laid dying in the brunette's arms, Alice prioritized Drizella's mental well-being. The young woman's inherent altruism served as a direct foil to Drizella's volatile avarice.  
  
Prince Gregor. Drizella bit her lower lip. Alice would be devastated if she ever found out about the brunette's heinous crimes. Recalling the young man's anguished face, the memory of his death resurfaced to Drizella's mind, intertwining with the image of the wolf who currently agonized against her magical grasp.  
  
"Please... Don’t." Alice's grip on Drizella's hand loosened, arm falling limp at her side.  
  
The dark-haired girl's anger subsided when she took note of Alice's fragility, replaced by the gut-wrenching fear that the blonde's condition was worsening. An excessive amount of blood festered over three long lesions, Alice needed to get some form of curative treatment.

With a flick of her wrist, Drizella propelled the wolf against an evergreen tree. Hitting the trunk at an accelerated velocity, a thunderous crash resonated through the lakeside glade when the wild dog's body came in contact with the wooden trunk. A dent in the bark, the animal fell to the ground. Staggering on its legs, the humiliated predator whimpered pathetically, scurrying off into the dark forest.   
  
With a lowered guard, Drizella focused her attention on Alice. A pale complexion, the blonde's eyelids were fluttering, her breath became labored and haggard. She nuzzled her face into the nape of Drizella's neck, succumbing to exhaustion. Alice mumbled an unintelligible statement. The raven-haired girl could feel the perspiration from Alice's forehead dampening her attire.

“I’m sorry…” Alice apologized, her nose brushing against Drizella’s collarbone.

“For what?” Drizella whispered in the blonde’s, embracing Alice with a tenderness that surprised them both.

“For bleeding on your fancy clothes.” Alice giggled, before bursting into coughs.

“You’re an i-idiot.” Drizella blinked back tears, hugging Alice lovingly, rubbing the blonde’s back soothingly.

Overwhelmed by a burning ache, the blonde felt inclined to sleep. Alice suspected that she would die soon. As idealistic and cheerful as the young woman was, she knew that her odds of survival were slim to none. Marooned in the middle of a desolate wildness, no means of acquiring a healer, it was only a matter of time. Her head rose off from Drizella's collarbone, Alice wanted to look up at the brunette. If she was going to die, the golden-haired girl would rather be gazing upon Drizella’s face then with her head buried in a mess of raven curls.  
  
"You're really a sorceress." Alice murmured, fingers straining to reach Drizella's cheek.  
  
"Hey, stay with me. Alice, don’t fall asleep." Drizella coaxed, "Hold on, Alice. Please."  
  
"A pretty sorceress..." Alice was content with her choice of last words.  
  
With a wry chuckle, Alice's hand offered the brunette's jawline one final caress before her arm slumped down. Slipping into a state of unconsciousness, a ghost of a smile graced the golden-haired girl lips. Alice's pulse became faint. With each heart palpitation, Drizella could tell that Alice's life was dwindling away.   
  
"A-Alice, I don't know what to do." Drizella stuttered, "Please, don't fall asleep."  
  
Moisture clouded the brunette's vision, water gathering at the corners of her eyes. Drizella couldn't fathom the idea of losing Alice, and at that instant, she didn't want to overanalyze what her feelings meant. The distressed young woman might never get a chance to admit how much she cared for Alice.  
  
Tenderly settling the blonde on the grass, the green blades served as a cushioned mattress of shrubbery. Drizella tried to stop the bleeding. With both hands, she pressured the lacerations, but there was just _so_ much blood. Drizella never bothered to learn about healing spells. She had only preoccupied herself with harnessing destructive forces. Vengeance. Wrath. Resentment. Truth be told, killing the wolf with her sheer power was incapable of solving anything, an act of retaliation wouldn't cure Alice's gashes.  
  
"Please, wake up." Drizella pleaded with the blonde, "Alice..."  
  
For a fleeting second, Drizella contemplated pressing her lips onto the blonde's mouth. Anastasia’s romantic fairytales, where true love conquered all. Scoffing to herself, she discarded the wayward thought, pessimism invaded Drizella's mind.

Nonsense. True love's kiss was a blessing bestowed upon righteous maidens and handsome heroes, not granted to an evil witch who harbored an unrequited attraction for a gorgeous girl. Drizella’s heart had been corrupted, Alice was a pure individual who deserved so much more.  
  
Feeling impotent to aide her golden-haired companion, Drizella broke into a fit of choked sobs, shoulders shaking roughly. She draped her cloak over the blonde’s torso, soaking the fabric in blood. Dabbing the garment gently over Alice’s abrasions, Drizella surveyed the extent of the cuts. Their depth was alarming, Drizella theorized that the wolf’s claws might have damaged an organ.

Drizella pushed her hands onto Alice's stomach, expecting to summon some type of magic from her palms. The brunette wished to procure energy that could save Alice, but up until now, Drizella's sorcery had been solely motivated by revenge and fueled with ardent hatred.  
  
Changing her strategy, Drizella snapped her fingers, hoping to engage in teleportation. Nothing occurred. Closing her eyes, the dark-haired girl visualized one of the hospitable lodges that she had resided in, attempting to transport Alice to a location with the necessary resources. At the very least, the blonde's wounds must be washed with an ointment for disinfection, and bandaged up with cotton clothes. Drizella didn't have the provisions required to nurse Alice's injuries.

To no avail, when Drizella opened her eyes, she was still in the ghastly meadow. The brunette's anxiety appeared to be interfering with her abilities. Magic had always been an asset that Drizella utilized in an apathetic fashion for her own selfish desires, not as a tool for passionate charitable endeavors.  
  
With barely noticeable vital signs, Alice's shallow gasps were dissipating. Drizella could no longer maintain her composure, the brunette's own heart was stifled by trepidation. She was going to lose Alice.  
  
Pupils dilated, protruding tiny veins on her white retinas, Drizella cried until her nose started to run, clogged with mucous. She wept inconsolably. Tears streaming across Drizella's cheeks, collected on her chin, and trickling down onto the golden-haired girl's abdominal section. The salty drops of clear fluid sprinkled across Alice's jagged skin, mixing with the blonde's blood.    
  
A soft throb, Drizella perceived a more persistent heartbeat. She had no idea how Alice was still alive. It was although the blonde's soul refused to be hindered by the limitations of her physical body, clinging on vehemently to life.  
  
Inspecting Alice's lesions, Drizella discovered that the hemorrhaging had subsided. The three cuts seemed smaller, with less swelling around the outer scrapes. Drizella assumed that her powers had taken affect, decreasing the severity of Alice's injuries.   
  
Dipping a hand below the blonde's neck, Drizella scooped Alice up into her arms. She held the golden-haired girl tightly to her chest, concentrating on getting them both out of that dreadful forest. With a calmer resolve, thick fumes had been effectively generated, a purple haze surrounding Alice and Drizella.  
  
Engulfed by the bewitched smoke, in that critical moment, Drizella prayed for a miracle. Alice's breaths were hardly detectable, consisting of the sluggish rising and falling of her chest. Contrary to her own cynical beliefs, Drizella allowed herself the luxury of optimism. She hoped that Alice's spirit was strong enough to resist death for just a little while longer.


	27. Fleeting Wishes

Chapter 27

Fleeting Wishes

* * *

 

The Community Gardens used to be one of the most beautiful hallmarks in Hyperion Heights, possibly the best floral site among all the of Seattle's neighborhoods. Displays brimming white daffodils, crimson roses, magenta carnations, yellow chrysanthemums, violet petunias, azure orchids, together the petals created an impressive polychromatic scenery, recreating a panorama that was akin to a rainbow. 

Over the years, people stopped caring about the Community Gardens, preoccupied with their own lives. With no one tending to the plants, the flowers began to wither and die. Formerly gorgeous arrangements turned into empty plots of dried earth. A desolate wasteland, the area had been reduced to a barren terrace.

An old stone well could still be found on the deserted grounds. The never-ending hole was full of coins, each representing a bunch of fleeting wishes that seldom came true. After all this time, the cylindrical concrete structure became more of a symbol for disillusion, rather than a beacon of hope.

Tilly rarely visited the Community Gardens, but today was a special occasion, Ivy's seventh unbirthday in the month of October. The blonde needed a quiet place to think, to contemplate all of life's paradoxical mysteries. With folded legs, she sat on the border of the well, the unsolvable Rubik's cube in her hands. Tilly toyed with the six-faced square, her mind wandering to taxing thoughts.

For the second consecutive day in a row, Ivy had been extremely busy with her work, overwhelmed by Victoria's infinite tirade of errands and assignments. She couldn't find free time to spend with Tilly. It wasn't a reason that called for concern, the dark-haired girl had a huge list of responsibilities, a demanding job, a controlling mother, and a stepniece to babysit. Tilly strived to be more empathetic, but she really missed Ivy. 

Addicted to the brunette's company, Ivy Belfrey was like a sedative drug that Tilly couldn't get enough of. The young woman's head was less cluttered during interactions with Ivy, the haunting noises ceased to torment her. As a result, Tilly had refrained from taking her medicine. The mysterious blue capsules treated a condition that she didn't even know about. It was stupid to cloud her senses with unknown narcotics, pills prescribed to her by an anonymous doctor.

The golden-haired girl felt as if she was awakening from a trance. Her entire existence had been an inconsequential set of events, all leading up to the moment that Tilly met Ivy Belfrey, and suddenly, the blonde's view on life changed. Ivy gave her purpose.

In order to distract herself from her loneliness, Tilly tried to muse about another topic; Halloween was a few days away. A festive holiday that the majority of residents in Hyperion Heights celebrated. She wondered if Ivy would appreciate her selection of costume; a fluffy white mask, shaped like a rabbit, or a  _bunny_. 

A cheaply fabricated accessory, her funds were limited, but Tilly thought that the meaning behind the choice would be cute. She was paying homage to the adorable feline that Ivy had grown so attached to during their 'date' at a cat café.

An alarming discernment, Tilly would rather not have her actions described as obsessive, but she truly didn't feel whole unless Ivy was by her side. Not an ideal scenario, especially since the brunette had yet to define the nature of their relationship. Tilly knew that she should ask Ivy for clarification, but although being the young woman's friend seemed unfulfilling, it was better than nothing.

Sighing to herself, the blonde threw a quarter over the edge, and listened as it plopped against the bottom of the wishing well. Tilly hated being so complacent. She had reduced herself to a dependent planet, revolving around in Ivy's celestial solar system.

"Hey!" A perky voice called out Tilly from behind.

Shifting away from the wishing well, Tilly twisted to face the person addressing her. Two curious chocolate-brown eyes, a dark-haired little girl was staring intently at her. A navy coat covering a teal shirt, she wore beige pants, holding a clipboard in one hand, a pen in the other. With her lips quirked into smile, the small brunette clearly had some inquiry for Tilly.

"Hi, I'm Lucy, and I'm trying to get people to sign my petition." The young child introduced herself politely.

Lucy. That name rang vaguely familiar, but Tilly couldn't remember where she had heard it before. A withdrawal side-effect, the blonde's memory glitched from her lack of medication.

"For what?" Tilly lifted an eyebrow, smirking playfully at Lucy.

"To save the Community Gardens! My stepgrandmother-" Lucy took a pause, "I mean, _Victoria Belfrey_ , she wants to bring this place down to construct some boring building."

The blonde's eyes widened, recognition flashing across her cerulean irises. Victoria Belfrey, the little girl's _stepgrandmother_. Tilly processed the information, realizing that Ivy must be Lucy's stepaunt. What a coincidental encounter.

"So, do you want to sign?" Lucy insisted.

The young girl showed Tilly the sheet of paper, several signatures had been collected already. A puzzling sight, no 'Ivy Belfrey' scribbled on the document, the blonde observed as she reviewed the page. Tilly recalled Ivy stating that Lucy's wasn't her biggest fan, but shouldn't the brunette be one of the first people to support her stepniece's benevolent endeavor?

"I don't think that my endorsement means much, kid." Tilly chuckled, scratching the back of head.

Lucy's mouth transformed into a somber grimace, the little girl was crestfallen. Tilly didn't enjoy disappointing children. With a reassuring grin, the blonde developed an idea, a brilliant way to bring Lucy and her stepaunt closer together. With Ivy's administrative expertise, she could help Lucy prepare the proper documentation to submit with the petition. It would certainly be a fun, and effective, bonding activity.

"Why don't you ask Ivy Belfrey, your stepaunt, to sign the petition?" Tilly advised, snapping her fingers to emphasize the point, "As the lead executive assistant of Victoria's company, her opinion would mean a lot to city government officials."

With a scoff, Lucy shook her head from side to side, as if the notion of soliciting Ivy's aid was absurd. The small brunette shrugged her shoulders, hugging the clipboard to her chest before she spoke.

"Yeah, right." Lucy sneered sarcastically, "Ivy is just as wicked and heartless as her mother. She only cares about herself."

It was Tilly's turn to frown, dumbfounded by Lucy's accusations. She knew for a fact that Ivy couldn't be as awful as her mother. Tilly's heart would never belong to someone who was capable of such cruel behavior.

Lucy's claims must be false, whimsical nonsense that children said when they were angry at an authoritative figure who forced them to eat more vegetables or do their homework on time. Ivy Belfrey was a good person, Tilly would bet her life on it.

"Well, thanks anyway." Lucy chirped, "Bye!"

Waving farewell to the blonde, Lucy spun on one heel, and began skipping off. The young girl was obliviously unaware at how she had filled Tilly's soul with a foreboding sense of dread, an escalating fear that the blonde's positive perception of Ivy could be misguided.

Tilly focused her attention back on the wishing well, glancing over the ledge. Into the depth of the dark abyss, where she had earlier tossed a coin, accompanied with a request; the blonde had desired to learn about the inner workings of Ivy's mind. Lucy's words echoed through Tilly's head, taunting her ruthlessly. The old proverb applied, a wise dictum that most people failed to heed, Tilly should have been careful with what she wished for.

* * *

A tall wooden tablet, the thin barrier that separated the residential loft from an adjacent corridor. Fluorescent lamps hung along the walls, casting a glimmering light on the hallway, illuminating the carpet floor with a yellow glow. An eerie silence lingered in the air, what poetic individuals might speculate was the tangible manifestation of the 'calm before the storm.'

Tilly stood in front of Ivy's apartment, shuffling her feet nervously. It was half-past midnight, but this visit had been long overdue. Threading a hand through her golden tresses, Tilly prayed for spiritual  guidance, an inexplicable sign that could reaffirm her decision to be here.

With three tentative taps, the blonde knocked on the door. Her heart pounded, fingers clenching and releasing. Seconds felt like hours, as Tilly waited patiently, glaring down at the fuzzy welcome mat. She had to avoid looking into Ivy's lonely eyes, or else her resolve would waver and fall apart. A screeching creak indicated that the entrance to the loft had been opened.

"Tilly?" Ivy whispered, Tilly's gaze stayed fixated on the ground.

The dark-haired girl's tone was uncharacteristically sweet, laced with gentility. Tilly had expected Ivy to be annoyed with her unannounced presence. Ivy sounded happy to see her, which only caused a pang of guilt to swell up against Tilly's chest.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Ivy's hand extended out for the hemline of Tilly's shirt.

Fingers tenderly tugging at the garment, from an outsider's perspective, a person might presume that Ivy and Tilly were a couple. The brunette was excellent at rehearsing the role of attentive girlfriend, she simply couldn't perform the romantic scene to completion.

Exhaling a resigned breath, the blonde lifted her head, confronting a pair of auburn irises, gleaming with a glint of worry. Despite Ivy's pleasant attitude, Tilly couldn't falter. She had postponed too many discussions as it was, Ivy owed her answers. Tilly aspired for something more substantial than being Ivy's secret acquaintance.

"I ran into Lucy today..." Tilly noticed how Ivy's demeanor instantly hardened at the mention of the little girl's name.

"What did you say? What did _she_ tell you?" Ivy muttered through gritted teeth, letting go of Tilly's blouse.

"Relax, Ivy. She was just asking people to sign her petition, to stop your mother from destroying the Community Gardens." Tilly explained, "I told her that she should ask you for help."

"I can't help her save some pointless garden." Ivy huffed, "I'm the lead executive assistant, I'm the one in charge of completing all the paperwork, gathering the permits. Do you want me to lose my job because of Lucy's incessant whining?"

"Well, at least consider talking to Lucy about it. She's really devastated about the situation." Tilly reached out for Ivy's arm, "Comfort her, say something better is being erected over the Community Gardens. Lucy is a smart kid, I'm sure that she'll understand."

Disconcerted by Tilly's fondness for Lucy, the raven-haired girl's brushed off the blonde's hand, her lips contorting into a scowl. Ivy had developed a defensive disposition. Tilly couldn't comprehend why the brunette was inexplicably upset over such a trivial affair. 

"Why should _I_ care?" Ivy snarled.

"Because she's your stepniece!" Tilly barked, "And you're obligated to care!"

Ivy visibly flinched when the blonde snapped at her, and for a single second, her brown eyes emitted genuine sympathy. It was gone in a blink, replaced by a rapid mood swing. Anger flared up across the young woman's facial features, a bitter ire that couldn't be quelled. 

An assortment of emotions flickered across the brunette's face. There was clearly something sinister lurking beneath Ivy's superficial exterior, an emptiness that couldn't be filled. Tilly lacked the wisdom to calculate what the appropriate countermeasures to take were. She loved Ivy dearly, but she wouldn't permit the raven-haired girl's darkness to consume her as well.

"You're behaving like an idiotic child!" Ivy crossed her arms.

"If I'm such a child, then maybe it's better for us _not_ see each anymore!" Tilly quipped in frustration.

The sentence slipped out of Tilly's mouth, before she had been able to stop herself. The statement was laced with a passionate resentment, a feeling that Tilly had allowed to fester within her, boiling up intensely until she cracked. Ivy didn't even care about her stepniece, how could Tilly believe anything that the brunette said?

"Are you _actually_ breaking up with me?" Ivy unfolded her arms, "Over an abandoned garden?"

A heartbroken laugh escaped Tilly's throat. It was excruciatingly ironic, a cruel cosmic joke. Ivy had dared to put a label on their relationship in the same instant that Tilly was choosing to dissolve it. The blonde was exhausted, loving someone shouldn't be so suffocating.

"No, because we would have to be _dating_ for that terminology to apply." Tilly retorted, "And I am done with being your homoerotic experiment."

"What are you saying?" Ivy demanded an explanation, arms at her sides, fingers balling into fists, "I like you-"

"I know that you're just using me to rebel against your bloody mother." Tilly interjected, taking a stride toward Ivy, "You don't like girls, so you won't kiss me, but you enjoy defying Victoria's conventional expectations, so you keep leading me on."

"None of that is true!" Ivy declared, with a conviction that Tilly's heart yearned to trust.

"Then prove it." Tilly leaned down, an inch away from Ivy's face, "Just kiss me."

Ivy's breath hitched, pupils dilating in shock. Her pulse quickened due to the golden-haired girl's proximity. She could smell Tilly's alluring citrous fragrance. It took all of Ivy's discipline to abstain from pressing her lips onto the blonde's enticing mouth.

"I c-can't..." Ivy stammered, unable to give Tilly the consolation that she sought, "I just can't."

Cringing her eyebrows in despair, Tilly swore that she could hear her own heart shattering. With a solemn nod, the blonde accepted Ivy's reluctance to kiss her as sufficient proof. The dark-haired girl didn't harbor any romantic feelings for Tilly, it had all been a sham. 

Ivy was a friendless young woman, but that didn't give her an excuse to string along the neighborhood's pathetic homeless girl. Regardless of her profoundly low social status, Tilly deserved more than that. 

"That's what I thought." Tilly lamented.

Tears gathered around Ivy's eyes, she stared at the golden-haired girl with a mournful expression. It was distressing, Tilly doubted that she would ever be able to forgive herself for causing Ivy pain. The blonde just couldn't cope with anymore of Ivy's mixed signals. 

Bringing her hand up to Ivy's face, Tilly caressed the brunette's skin. Her thumb wiped away a lone tear sliding down Ivy's cheek. Fingers trailing along the raven-haired girl's jawline, stroking her lips. Tilly's last gesture of affection, she dropped her arm.

"Goodbye, Miss Ivy Belfrey." Tilly murmured wistfully.

Tilly pivoted around, wordlessly walking toward the elevators. With inconsolable sorrow, the blonde willed her legs to move, knowing that if she caught a glimpse of Ivy's anguish, her resolution would crumble.

Faint sobs resonated through the narrow passageway. Palm holding onto her chest, Tilly continued walking. The golden-haired girl couldn't distinguish between Ivy's cries and her own. A part of Tilly pleaded with her to turn back, begging the blonde to embrace Ivy and alleviate the suffering that she had induced. 

Blinking back tears, Tilly forced herself to keep going. It was for the best, perpetuating a false relationship wouldn't do either young woman any good in the long run. A rational argument, Tilly's fractured heart remained unconvinced, aching with each step that she took away from Ivy.


	28. Soothing Circles

Chapter 28

Soothing Circles

* * *

 

Pain. A distressing feeling, often caused by intense or destructive stimuli. It's an unpleasant sensory and emotional experience associated with actual or potential tissue damage. A complex, subjective phenomenon, a biological symptom that demands urgent attention.

A burning ache across her stomach, Alice groaned as she slowly began to regain consciousness. The events from the day before returned to the surface of the blonde's mind. A wolf had tried to attack Drizella, she stood in the way, and its claws slashed through her skin. Pain. Moaning loudly, Alice's eyelids fluttered open. Every blood vessel in her skull screamed in protest, the onslaught of a persistent migraine.

The golden-haired girl tried to survey her new surroundings, but she was engulfed by darkness. The pounding in her head made it difficult for the blonde to focus her eyesight. She was laying on a soft mattress, securely tucked beneath a comfy set of blankets. Her pupils adjusted to the lack of visibility.

Alice lowered her gaze, pulling off the bedsheets. She remembered the amount of blood, the severity of the wounds that had been inflicted across her torso. Bandages covered the lacerations, cotton strips of fabric that went all the way up to her neckline. Alice's fingers trailed along the perfectly wrapped binds. She noticed that her dress was missing. Someone had stripped the young woman down the baggy trousers, her peculiar choice of undergarment. 

Memories came flooding back, recalling Drizella's desperate pleas, how the brown-eyed girl appeared beautiful even as she cried. Alice wondered where Drizella was now, if the brunette had been hurt by the wolf. Plagued by troubling thoughts, she needed to know what happened. Urging her body to move, Alice's limbs were unresponsive. She flopped back onto the bed, too weak for any further motion.

"Don't move so much. Do you want to agitate your wounds?" A recognizable voice reprimanded her, "Stay still."

A palm pressed against the blonde's shoulder, restraining her in place. Alice's head dropped onto the pillow, unable to resist the hand pushing her down. A dim light flickered on, drawing Alice's attention. She twisted around, facing a glimmering candle that rested on top of a nearby wooden nightstand.

Sparkling auburn irises stared at her with concern. Drizella sat beside Alice's cot, perched on a cushioned chair at the edge of the bed. A dress was sprawled across Drizella's lap, a sewing kit laid on the floor. The raven-haired girl had been mending the rips in Alice's outfit, a fact that brought a lopsided grin onto the blonde's face. The bodice was fully repaired, blood removed and the cuts stitched along the seams.

"How do you feel?" Drizella asked, sliding down Alice's bedsheets.

Drizella began assessing the blonde's condition, to ensure that the disinfectant ointment had been adequately administered. Her hand brushed over Alice's forehead, checking for a fever. Drizella relented a small smirk, pleased with the injured girl's lukewarm body temperature.

"I feel like was trampled by a horse." Alice quipped, "But I can presume that I became a bite-sized snack for a ravenous wolf instead."

"Don't you _dare_ joke around! Not when you almost died in my arms. I was so..." Drizella took a second to find the appropriate term, "I was w-worried about you."

The dark-haired girl's tone was hesitant, as if she didn't know how to articulate her thoughts. Drizella tapped her foot nervously, unable to sit still. A somber demeanor, the brunette wasn't accustomed to caring so much for another person. Drizella couldn't cope with everything that had transpired in the last few hours. She almost lost Alice before even being granted the opportunity to sort out her feelings for the blonde.

"I brought us to this lodge, and rented out the room. The innkeepers are a kindhearted elderly couple, and they helped me tend to your injuries." Drizella explained, "There was j-just _so_ much blood, Alice."

After so many years of being alone, without any friends or family members who treated her compassionately, Drizella couldn't recollect an instant when she had felt appreciation for someone, her mannerisms made that notion evident. Alice had no desire to embarrass the brunette, but she wanted to convey her gratitude. Propping herself against the headboard with both elbows planted on the mattress for balance, the blonde assumed an upright position.

Reaching out slowly, Alice strained her body to grab a hold of Drizella's hand. The dark-haired girl shifted to look at Alice, her brown eyes were glistening with tears, a sight that startled the blonde. Thumb grazing across Drizella's palm, Alice tugged at the young woman's wrist.

Offering no resistance, the brunette lunged forward, wrapping her arms around Alice, embracing the taller girl tightly. Drizella had been faking her composure for an extensive period of time, uncertain if Alice was ever going to rejoin the land of the living. Drizella flopped on against the blonde, lithe fingers clutching the back of Alice's shoulders, her face buried into a voluminous mess of golden hair.

"I thought that you were dead..." Drizella muttered into Alice's ear, "I thought that you had died, because of me."

Alice pulled back, forcing the brunette to sit on the border of the mattress. Placing both palms on Drizella's neck, she cradled the smaller girl's head between her hands. Lips quirking upward, Alice flashed a set of pearly white teeth, hoping to quell Drizella's fears with a reassuring smile.

"For you. I would have died _for you_ , but never _because of you_." Alice replied wisely, "Understand?"

"I don't see the difference." Drizella huffed, mouth twisting into a childlike pout.

"You're smart." Alice chuckled, bopping the brunette's nose with her index finger, "I am sure that you'll figure it out."

A confused expression on Drizella's face, Alice giggled at how adorable the brunette looked. Laughter transitioned into gasps, Alice had overexerted herself. Lungs burning up, she started coughing. Her esophagus was hoarse and raspy, the golden-haired girl struggled to breathe.

Growing alarmed by Alice's wheezing, Drizella snaked an arm around the blonde. Making soothing circles with her palm, she massaged Alice's upper back, alleviating the young woman's discomfort.

"Do you need water?" Drizella asked sweetly, "I can fetch us some tea, if you want."

"N-No." Alice declined, clearing her throat, "I'm better now."

Drizella glared at the blue-eyed girl, trying gauge if Alice was feigning her sudden health improvement. Drizella pulled down the bedsheets, scooting aside to give herself some space as she inspected Alice's bandages. Peeling the cotton fabrics off gently, Drizella expected to see the blonde's severely tarnished flesh, but instead, she encountered lesions that had been impeccably cauterized.

A little while ago, Drizella had been cleaning three profound gashes, and now only a set of faint scars remained. Alice's skin was regenerated, an inexplicable occurrence. Drizella's fingertips traced along the light pink blemishes on Alice's stomach, causing the blonde's pulse to speed up. A blush spread across Alice's cheeks, clearly flustered by the raven-haired girl's touch.

"I'm guessing that you used magic to heal me, right?" Alice suggested, glancing at her wounds.

"Y-Yes." Drizella stuttered, unaware of how she had actually succeeded in performing a curative spell.

With a sigh, the brunette tilted her head to get a better view of the Alice's faded lacerations. Drizella was not capable of deducing what supernatural force might have facilitated in the golden-haired girl's rapid recovery. Her attempts to summon healing energy had been futile, she could only recall the bleeding subsiding a bit on its own. Drizella thought that the wounds began clotting naturally after several minutes had passed since their inception.

Candlelight shined upon Drizella's face at a different angle. Under the yellow glow, Alice could see that dark shadows adorned the area beneath the other girl's eyes. Drizella was overwhelmed, thoroughly exhausted by the night's events, but she kept concealing her own fatigue, preoccupied with solely tending to the blonde's needs.

Alice leaned forward, coiling her fingers on Drizella's wrist, stopping the brunette from continuing her amateurish medical analysis. Auburn irises gazed into Alice's complementary blue ones. The golden-haired girl lifted her other hand up to cup Drizella's face.

"You need to sleep." Alice whispered, "Come on."

Her muscles were sore and wasted, Drizella was too tired to fight off Alice's firm hold. She slumped against the blonde's body, her cheek nuzzling into the taller girl's chest. Eyelids fluttering shut, Drizella couldn't stifle a yawn from blowing past her parted lips.

The brunette felt Alice's hands glide toward her collar, loosening the straps of the cloak. When the knot was unclasped, Drizella shrugged the hooded cape off from her shoulders, allowing the garment to fall onto the ground. Alice smiled warmly, fingers traveling to the back of Drizella's head, toying with the tied tresses.

"Sleeping with this braid can't be comfortable. May I?" Alice murmured.

Receiving a nod of consent from the smaller girl, Alice unraveled the brunette's braid, combing through the curls that came tumbling down, cascading past Drizella's waist. The luminosity from the candlestick's blazing flame reflected a hue of orange onto the young woman's raven locks, creating an ethereal image, almost as if Drizella were the heroic long-haired princess from some enchanting fairytale.

"You're so gorgeous..." Alice proclaimed, sincerely in awe if Drizella's beauty, "The prettiest sorceress in all of the land."

Alice had decided to forget about Drizella's actual name from the moment that she heard first it, choosing to refer to the brunette as 'pretty sorceress' instead, a term of endearment. Drizella meant 'dew' and the symbolism just didn't suit the marvelous girl. The young woman wasn't an insignificant droplet of water, she radiated with the vivacity of a torrential rain, an impressive tempest.

Engrossed in her own musings, Drizella's heart thumped erratically, unnerved by the manner in which Alice admired her appearance. A dignified young lady should never look at another girl in such an unbecoming fashion. Alice's piercing blue eyes remained fixated on her, brazenly absorbing every detail of Drizella's face.

Sensing the dark-haired girl's anxiety, a sharp intake of breath, Alice reeled her hands in. The last thing that she wanted was for Drizella to feel uneasy around her. Most young women didn't respond favorably to the romantic advances of another female.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you." Alice apologized as she made a motion to get off the bed, "I'll sleep on the chair, and you can-"

"Stay." Drizella interjected, surprised by the husky tone of her own voice.

Hands latching to Alice's shoulders, Drizella shoved her back down, straddling the golden-haired girl, an intimate gesture. Although Drizella was perplexed by her unconventional yearnings, she had no desire to push the blonde away. Drizella conceded a smile, blowing out the candlestick's intrusive flame before lowering herself on top of Alice.

Adjusting to accommodate with Drizella's weight, Alice reacted by arranging the bedsheets to cover them both, a task that was daunting to accomplish due to the pitch-black darkness. Legs intertwining under the cozy bundle of blankets, the blonde snuggled her arms around Drizella's waist.

The brunette's heart skipped a beat, unbalanced and arrhythmic palpitations. Sleeping with Anastasia had been less conflicting; her older sister didn't provoke a strange cardiac affliction to overtake Drizella's fragile central organs. The atmosphere was thick with tension, the dark-haired girl found it harder to breathe when Alice was this close to her.

The blonde weakened Drizella's resolve for retribution and vengeance. It frightened the brunette, the unspoken feelings that she had developed for Alice. What was the use of having so much power if Drizella could be rendered impotent by just one of Alice's charming smiles?

Laying down on the same bed as Alice, indulging in the blonde's warmth, Drizella risked losing her commitment to the promise that she had made to Lady Tremaine. The sinister woman didn't deserve a reprieve; she must be punished for all the years of suffering that Drizella had experienced at her hands. Mercy would never be granted; forgiveness was not an option.

Despite all her rage and hatred, Drizella grew vulnerable in the presence of Alice. Being near the blonde dulled the raven-haired girl's senses. It was unacceptable, how Drizella had permitted herself to get drawn in, as if she were a pathetic moth lured toward Alice's seductive flame.

Settling her head upon the crook of Alice's neck, an odd sting simmering inside of Drizella's stomach, not sure where to allocate her hands. While the brunette wore her entire dress, a lone pair of trousers served as undergarments for the lower portion of Alice's body. The thin bindings across the blonde's torso were the only barrier between Drizella and the other young woman's bare skin.

"Is this alright?" Drizella inquired bashfully, her hand hovering above Alice's chest.

"Yes. I don't mind." Alice replied, sinking back into the mattress, "You can put your hands wherever you want to." 

The blonde was grateful that Drizella couldn't perceive her lopsided smirk. Given their compromising position, Alice rather not lace her words with an underlying sexual subtext. Drizella became easily rattled by her flirtatious teasing, it would be for the best to respect the brunette's boundaries.

Drizella allowed her palm to nestle over Alice's left breast, and she was relieved for blonde's incapacity to see how her face had reddened. A woman was equipped with softer, more cushioned physical features. Drizella enjoyed cuddling against the side of Alice's body, molding into the contours of the other girl's slim figure.

"Alice?" Drizella mumbled groggily, "T-Thank you, for saving my life."

"Don't mention it." Alice chimed with a casual laugh, "Assisting pretty girls is a hobby of mine."

The nonchalant comment was meant to normalize their comradeship, making the current predicament less awkward by declaring that Alice would have saved _any_ young woman from danger. It would dispel Drizella's misconceptions, Alice's trick for pretending that she didn't harbor an inappropriate attachment to the dark-haired girl.

Drizella's arm roped around Alice's bosom, possessively curling into the blonde. Although it seemed ridiculous, a pang of jealousy had swelled inside of Drizella's chest. She didn't want Alice rescuing other girls, the mere thought alone infuriated her.

Oblivious to Drizella's plight, Alice ran a hand across the brunette's back, amazed with the length of the young woman's hair, combing through the raven tresses, rolling a strand between her index finger and her thumb. She tucked the smaller girl's head under her chin, humming a melodic tune. Alice gleamed with contentment, satisfied by how Drizella fit into her arms like a missing puzzle piece.

Enshrouded by shadows, neither girl had ever felt more at peace. Troubles that lurked within the confines of their minds dissolved and vanished into a sea of blissful feelings and tender sensations. Love. A concept that had almost been reduced to a foreign theoretical dissertation for both Drizella and Alice, to the extent that the two young women might not be able to recognize the sentiment until it was far too late.


	29. Elaborate Masks

Chapter 29

Elaborate Masks

* * *

 

Holidays are intervals set aside by custom or law on which normal activities, especially business and work, are often suspended. A jovial time where the whole family is reunited for a specific celebration, sharing meals together, and swapping nostalgic stories.

Most people love winter commemorations, Christmas, in particular. Children relish the idea of receiving presents, and playing in the snow. Adults enjoy the prospect of relaxing in front of a blazing fireplace, and sipping a mug of alcoholic eggnog.

The arrival of the cold season use to bring her so much glee, but now Christmas had become Ivy Belfrey's least favorite holiday. It reminded the dark-haired girl of everyone who was no longer by her side, deceased family members. Marcus. Cecelia. Anastasia. Ivy loathed the brief moments when she couldn't help but miss her older sister. 

It made sense for Ivy to prefer a celebration with no sentimental memories attached, the pagan ritual of Halloween. Cats. Witches. Mischief. A holiday tailored to Ivy's interests. The costumes, the thematic decorations, the elaborate masks, the brunette adored the autumn festivity and all of its sinister components.

On Halloween night, an annual Masquerade Ball was held at Hyperion Heights. A selective affair, the party could only be attended via invitation, a formal letter, one that Ivy had failed to receive. Rejected by the dance committee, she vehemently complained about the vile act of injustice. Having been denied permission to participate in the event, Ivy considered the fact to be a personal attack on her character. No elaboration for Ivy's dismissal was given, but the brunette knew that as Victoria Belfrey's daughter, the child of a dastardly woman, she wouldn't be warmly accepted anywhere.

Now that the sun was rising to announce the commencement of Halloween, adorning a clear blue sky with incandescent rays of light, Ivy didn't feel much excitement. Stuck at the Belfrey Towers, she sat in her chair, stationed by the receptionist desk. Ivy flipped through the correspondence that had been delivered to the workplace, distracting herself from painful thoughts.

Out of its own accord, the brunette's mind wandered elsewhere. Life without Tilly seemed to move in slow-motion. Ivy had been maintaining her composure, she cried at sparse intervals, only when no one could see her. An innate ability, Ivy had mastered the art of repressing emotions, frequently letting them boil until an inevitable explosion took place.

The mail consisted of business contracts and engineering permits, documents for Victoria, future taxing errands that would be delegated onto Ivy. Sighing despondently, the raven-haired girl spotted an odd black envelope, addressed to her.

Tearing into the thin parcel, Ivy found a card, holding two tickets to the Masquerade Ball inside, along with a message, written in a penmanship that the brunette instantly recognized, gorgeous cursive lines swirling to form a message.

" _Happy Halloween, and possibly, Happy Birthday, Ivy! I'll meet you at the entrance. Don't be late for this very important date. See you soon, Tilly._ "

Ivy read the words out loud, tears congregating around her eyes. The young woman felt her already broken heart shatter into smaller pieces. The timestamp from the post office indicated that Tilly had sent the thoughtful gift a day before making the spontaneous decision to end her relationship with Ivy. The brunette caressed the markings on the card, her fingertips tracing each place where Tilly's hands might have touched the paper too.

Restoring the infallible facade, Ivy stuffed the tickets and the card into her handbag. She didn't want to spend the entire day looking at Tilly's scribbles. There were so many important tasks that required Ivy's immediate attention, she couldn't afford to excessively mourn the loss of a relationship that had been forsaken by fate, time and time again.

Two days had passed since Tilly's impromptu visit to the dark-haired girl's apartment, and Ivy couldn't find the blonde anywhere. The troll monument under the Aurora Bridge. The rooftop of the abandoned building where Tilly gazed up into the stars. The secluded bookstore near the seashore. All of Ivy's searches had yielded zero results. It was exhausting. Regardless of this world's technical advancements, Tilly didn't own a mobile phone device, and therefore, the brunette had no way to contact her.

As a last resort, Ivy focused her efforts on social media applications, browsing through different online profiles, hoping that someone had caught a glimpse of the blonde. Discouragement often dwindled into anger. Tilly shouldn't have been upset over Ivy's lack of enthusiasm to save the Community Gardens. For a thieving vagabond, the golden-haired girl sure followed a strict moral code. Anger and denial, Ivy's typical arsenal of defense mechanisms.

The elevator chimed, disturbing Ivy's cybernetic endeavors to obtain Tilly's whereabouts. Large doors sliding open, a frazzled woman stumbled out. Lucy's mother, the bane of her existence. Jacinda held a folded spandex outfit in her arms, accompanied with a pumpkin-shaped basket, hesitating on whether to approach Ivy or not.

Annoyed by her entire stepfamily's tendencies to strain the bond that she had formed with a specific golden-haired girl, Ivy frowned cruelly. She grabbed the landline telephone, pressing a button to reach the front desk. The dark-haired girl threw a depreciating glance at Jacinda as she spoke.

"Security, we have a _trash_ situation upstairs." Ivy sneered, "Thank you."

Jacinda huffed, marching up to Ivy's post. A pair of auburn irises became locked in an intense glaring contest with a set of darker brown eyes. Ivy blamed the other woman's daughter for her rupture with Tilly, and Jacinda hated the raven-haired girl for her involvement in Victoria's malicious schemes.

"Look, Ivy. I know I'm not supposed to be anywhere near Lucy, I just came here to drop off her costume." Jacinda placed the items on the front desk.

"After that little 'Occupy Garden' stunt you pulled, you are lucky Mother didn't exile you to Canada." Ivy quipped.

Lucy and Jacinda, their idiotic petition to preserve the Community Gardens had ruined the young woman's blossoming relationship with Tilly. She had never shown the blonde any of her soul's hateful aspects, but the little debacle over the foreclosed property had drenched up some of Ivy's hidden resentment.

"I don't expect you to understand why I did what I did, but what's with the hostility?" Jacinda stated with bemusement, "I think you'd be happy to see me punished."

"Because who do you think has to take the little monster trick-or-treating now?" Ivy rolled her eyes, " _Me_."

"Ivy, if you don't want to take her, let me do it." Jacinda requested hopefully, leaning over the desk.

"And risk Mother finding out I did something to make you happy?" Ivy scoffed as she retrieved Lucy's disguise and pumpkin-shaped basket, "I'd rather eat carbs."

Crestfallen and disappointed, the older brunette grimaced, walking away from the receptionist desk. She knew better than to argue with Ivy, the younger woman was obstinate when she felt inconvenienced.

Unbeknownst to Jacinda, her stepsister had implemented her own form of karmic restitution. If Ivy couldn't be with Tilly for Halloween, then there wouldn't even be the ghost of a chance that Jacinda was going to go trick-or-treating with Lucy.

Two days without hearing Tilly ask if it was her birthday, her cerulean irises sparkling mischievously, feeding Ivy some delicious snack full of carbohydrates. Forty-eight hours from the last time that both young women had seen each other. Two-thousand, eight-hundred, and eighty minutes.

An expert at converting data into numbers, percentages, and statistics, Ivy realized that the inner workings of a heart weren't as easy to calculate as the overall budget for a construction project being financed by Victoria Belfrey's corporation. In the case of the missing homeless girl, the only measurable amount that Ivy could derive with precise certainty was how aching pain Tilly's absence had inflicted upon her chest.

* * *

Ninjas. Princesses. Superheroes. People of all ages crowded the streets, energetically parading their unique choice of costume. Laughter filled the air, ornaments and trinkets covered the commercial establishments. A cheerful atmosphere, brimming with tangible joy. With fruity lollipops and candy bars in their hands, small children relished the spoils of trick-or-treating in the early morning.

Halloween was a festive occasion for the residents of Hyperion Heights, a temporary reprieve from the daily mundane routine. Stores and businesses were eager to capitalize on the holiday, offering every imaginable product in a seasonal variant of orange and black, coffees and pastries, all available in flavors such as pumpkin spice and fudge chocolate, the edible version of the aforementioned colors.

Golden curls blowing in the autumn wind, a blue-eyed girl sat alone on a park bench. Her legs crossed, she played with a Rubik’s cube, probing the toy in her hands, an attempt to solve the puzzle, ignoring that most of the stickers were missing from the sides. A repetitive scene, Tilly had been in the place before, but never with her mind so fuzzy. Something was changing, almost as if a veil had been lifted off from the blonde's eyes.

The usual red flannel shirt, torn black leggings under a brown skirt, and mismatching jewelry hanging on her arms. Tilly's outfit appeared familiar, the clothes thato she always wore, except for the white, bunny mask that was latched onto her face. A monocle glass on one eye, the festive accessory resembled the rabbit from _Alice In Wonderland_.

The blonde didn't recall why she had even bought the mask. An annual Masquerade Ball was held on Halloween, a luxurious dance that required an invitation. Through illicit means, Tilly could easily obtain a couple of tickets. Did she plan to take a pretty girl to the event?

The blonde had abstained from taking her medication. The symptoms afflicting the young woman were dangerous. Voices whispered wayward thoughts inside her head. Tilly couldn't remember what motivated her to stop consuming the strange blue capsules. Only bits and pieces of information seeped through. Memories flooding in from the depths of the golden-haired girl's subconscious.

Had Tilly just ended a relationship? Was her ex-girlfriend working for Victoria Belfrey? Did she truly love orange marmalade sandwiches? Doubts threatened to consume the blonde. An image seared into her skull, a brown-haired man with two faces, one calling himself Detective Weaver, and the other donned the name of Rumpelstiltskin.

The gothic novel, with a spine that read, _Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_. The mirage of a bookstore manifested itself, lounging on a beach, eating scrumptious s'mores, a raven-haired girl cuddled up against her chest. Curioser and curioser. Phrases popped into Tilly's mind.

The buzzing became louder, an incessant screeching, to the point where Tilly couldn't distinguish between her own thoughts and the side-effects of the withdrawal. It was deafening, sounds that didn't allow the blonde to concentrate on her Rubik’s cube. Murmurs echoed gibberish. Choices. Confident, emerald-green irises or lonely, chocolate-brown eyes.

"Hey, Tilly." A prominent voice pierced into the blonde's musings.

Shifting her attention away from the puzzle box, Tilly was confronted with Detective Weaver's expectant gaze. She had been his criminal informant for years, and the man came in search of intel. He sat on park bench, seating himself on the empty space in front of Tilly. She gave him a lopsided smirk.

"Hey, detective." Tilly slid her mask upward, exposing her face, "What brings you to my humble bench today?"

A paper bag in his hands, the police officer gave her a tentative grin. Pulling out a sandwich from the package, Detective Weaver shoved the rectangular treat toward Tilly.

"Well, the deli mixed up my order again." Detective Weaver explained, "They gave me an orange marmalade, instead of my Reuben."

The brown-haired man waved the bundle. Orange marmalade, a preserve spread. The red and white checkered tissue wrapping. Tilly shrugged and resumed toying with her Rubik's cube, she rather eat a ham and cheese sandwich. Cured gammon. Fresh brie. Rye bread. A smidgen of mayonnaise.

"Orange marmalade, _your favorite_." Detective Weaver informed the blonde.

"But how do I _know_ it's my favorite?" Tilly quirked an eyebrow, challenging the man.

"Well, there's only one way to find out." Detective replied calmly, "Take a bite. Then maybe we can talk business."

Business. The term elicited a response from Tilly. Victoria Belfrey, the owner of a large corporation, her ex-girlfriend was employed by the despotic woman. Detective Weaver might have allowed himself to be manipulated by Victoria, but Rumpelstiltskin would never succumb to such submissive behavior.

"This business, has anything to do with Victoria Belfrey?" Tilly asked. "She's a _wicked_ woman. Had an ex-girlfriend who worked for her once, said Belfrey would rather scoop out her own eyes than do something nice for another human."

The words spilled out from the blonde's mouth, a metaphor that she had heard someone use when describing Victoria Belfrey. Witty. Wicked. Witches. The clattering reverberated in Tilly's head, beckoning her to assist Rumpelstiltskin.

"It's not like you." Tilly observed, "Why do you work for her?"

"I don't." Detective Weaver retorted sternly, "And by the way, I'm the detective here, I ask the questions."

Tilly giggled, noting how the shrewd man's disposition had turned surly. He plopped the sandwich back into the paper bag, clearly offended by the blonde's presumptuous comment. His dark eyes became fixated on Tilly's silly mask.

"Take off the mask." Detective Weaver scoffed, "You look ridiculous."

Mask. Madness. Misconceptions. The blind leading the blind. Ironic for Detective Weaver to complain about the blonde's accessory, especially when his own vision was being hindered by the figurative shawl that had been draped over his face.

"But we're all wearing masks!" Tilly laughed, "It's Halloween."

"Oh, is that why you're playing with that toy?" Detective Weaver gestured toward the Rubik's cube, "Damn thing is broken. What's the point of an unsolvable puzzle?"

On a Rubik's cube, each of the six sides is covered by nine stickers, each of one corresponding to a solid color: white, red, blue, orange, green, and yellow. An internal pivot mechanism enables each face to turn independently, thus mixing up all the polychromatic sections.

For the puzzle to be solved, each face must be returned to having a sole color, but since the Rubik's cube in Tilly's hands had stickers missing from all the sides, it was virtually unsolvable.

"What's the point of a solvable one?" Tilly countered with a wise smile, "Things are changing here, detective. I'm starting to notice things. Bet you didn't know you're wearing a mask too, but I'm not quite sure I like this one. Me, I much rather see the man behind it."

Detective Weaver's patience faltered, he was tired of the golden-haired girl's nonsensical tangents. The police officer had to keep a watchful eye on the neighborhood, and his most efficient criminal informant might have gone insane.

"Sandwich time is over." Detective Weaver stood up abruptly, "We're done."

As the brown-haired man sauntered away from her, Tilly smirked. She lowered the bunny-shaped mask back onto her face. Detective Weaver didn't have the answers that the blonde desperately desired. Mushrooms. Roses. Teacups.

Rumpelstiltskin, the person buried beneath the outer shell of Detective Weaver. His melodic voice rang through the blonde's ears, bouncing around, dancing inside her head. The young woman had a purpose, compelled to obey the phantoms residing within her mind.

The bewildering conundrum of Hyperion Heights, the enchanted neighborhood in Seattle where nothing felt real, and its extrinsic inhabitants seemed lost in their own devices. Victoria Belfrey. Rumpelstiltskin. Detective Weaver. Gathering all the pieces, Tilly would resolve the mystery, interlocking the fragments together. The golden-haired girl planned on formulating a sensible explanation that her heart could truly believe in.


	30. Sentimental Musings

Chapter 30

Sentimental Musings

* * *

 

Morning rays slowly crept in through the opaque glass window of a cabin, radiant enough to cast a light over the two occupants on the bed. It was far too early for the birds to commence their harmonic tunes, most of the forest critters were still slumbering. 

The warm sunbeams reached Alice’s face, urging her to wake up. She groaned in protest before rolling on her side. It took the blonde a minute to adjust to the new environment. The young woman had forgotten where she was for a second, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. Cobwebs protruding from the corners, a sign of shabby innkeeping. Alice didn't mind, she had stayed in far worse places.

Feeling a warm body pressing upon her chest, a grin spread across Alice’s face from ear to ear, recalling that she had fallen asleep last night with beautiful girl beside her. The young woman wrapped an arm around Drizella's middle, pulling the brunette closer. Alice sighed contently, inhaling Drizella's unique fragrance, the refreshing scent of wild roses.

Drizella responded by fitting her head into the curve of the taller girl's neck, snuggling against her golden-haired companion's chest. Alice ran her hands up and down the brunette's back, fingers threading along the messy raven curls. 

Grumbling as she released an involuntary yawn, Drizella's eyelids blinked open. Realizing that she was sprawled over another woman, limbs tangled together under the bedsheets, the brunette scooted away from Alice, detaching herself from the blonde.

Rush of blood to the face, both cheeks flushing bright red, Drizella was embarrassed about her current predicament. She flew off the mattress, her feet slamming onto the floor, the wooden floor creaking under the dark-haired girl's weight.

Shuffling to the side, Alice laid on the mattress, propping the top half of her body up with one bended elbow. She smirked at Drizella, appreciating how beautiful the brunette was, despite her loose and frazzled hair.

"Good morning." Alice chirped.

"G-Good morning." Drizella stammered, eyes darting around to avoid glancing in the blonde's direction.

Giggling at the dark-haired girl's bashful behavior, Alice sat up on the cot, the rusty springs made an audible squeaky noise. She assessed her surroundings. The room was simple, a cushioned chair could be found near the bed, where Alice’s dress laid over the armrests. A nightstand to the side, its surface held a lump of wax that used to be candle.

The walls were colored with a dark shade of beige, the paint chipping off in some areas. Dusty burgundy drapes framed a crystal window, there was small table positioned underneath. Long loaf of bread, a pitcher full of water, and a ceramic jar. The innkeepers must have provided those supplements to serve as breakfast meal.

As a whole, the lodge was quaint and pleasant. Alice wondered how Drizella had come across the hospitable shelter. She turned to ask the brunette about their refuge, but the young woman's gaze was fixated intently on the crooked table by the window sill.

"This is not the most luxurious lodge that I've encountered during my travels." Drizella began in haughty tone.

The dark-haired girl strutted toward the table, her fingers coiling around a shiny, metal knife. She cut off a few slices of bread, and then moved to pour lukewarm water into two glasses. A wistful sigh, Drizella stared at the ceramic jar, pausing before she removed its lid.

"Then why did you choose it?" Alice grinned cheekily, standing up and reaching for her dress.

"Because it's the only place that has orange marmalade." Drizella muttered, turning around to give the blonde a semblance of privacy, "I'm not too fond of the sustenance's sour taste, but my sister loved it. She would put the jam on everything. Crackers. Wafers. Bread. You name it, and Anastasia would add orange marmalade to it."

Smearing the citrus fruit preserve on the portion of bread, a nostalgic smile manifested itself on Drizella's face as she thought of Anastasia. The brunette absentmindedly swiped the dull blade in a circular motion, filling the rectangular slab to the brim with orange marmalade.

Clearing her throat, the blonde subtly informed Drizella that she had finished putting on her dress. The young woman pivoted slowly, her eyes gleaming as she appraised the manner in which Alice's bodice molded to accommodate each curve on her body. Concealing those problematic feelings, Drizella tried to nonchalantly had over a prepared slice of bread to Alice.

"Your sister sounds fun." Alice accepted the brunette's offering, her knuckles grazed against the smaller girl's palm.

"She _was_." Drizella replied solemnly.

"I'm sorry." Alice lamented softly, reaching out for Drizella's hand.

The brunette permitted Alice to give her fingers a tender squeeze, indulging in a brief moment of weakness. She ingested a deep breath, keeping her tears at bay. Alice had a way of reminding Drizella how to feel, a notion that both scared and thrilled the dark-haired girl.

Bringing the wedge of bread to her lips, Alice took a bite of the orange marmalade sandwich, relishing the tinge of citrus flavors. The blonde smiled at Drizella, indicating that she had enjoyed the young woman's concoction.

"Did you like it?" Drizella asked, removing all traces of sadness from her voice.

"I _loved_ it." Alice nodded, "It's sort of like this lemon pie that my Papa used to make."

A little bit acidic, with a creamy, smooth texture that stuck to the blonde's tongue and overstimulated her senses. It seemed zesty, maybe even a tad tart. A smudge of the jam was hanging from her lower lip, Alice felt fingers cupping her chin.

Drizella's hand cradled the other girl's jaw, thumb brushing off the stain sliding down the edge of Alice's mouth. Startled by her own actions, the brunette reeled her arm back in. Drizella spun around, pretending to be preoccupied with her own slice of bread. The young woman's puffy cheeks looked adorable when a pink tint colored the skin, an event that Alice would never grow tired of witnessing.

Lemon pie. Orange marmalade. Dark-haired girls with sardonic attitudes. Alice had always shown an affinity for bitterness, and as she nibbled on the seasoned bread, her eyes remained on Drizella, tracing the outline of the brunette's face.

Her heart swelled with an emotion that Alice couldn't describe with words. It was a warm sensation, originating from the pit of her stomach, a dull ache that intensified whenever she glanced at Drizella. Lacking any formal education, the blonde knew that she was incapable of converting the feelings into poetic proclamations written on long parchments of paper, and therefore, plastering a dopey smile on her face as  would have to suffice.

* * *

A skyscraper that soared up to the heavens, the Belfrey Towers were unbelievably tall, a behemoth made of steel and cement. Reflective glass panels resembled the scales of a dragon, a gigantic monster that threatened to destroy anything caught in its path. The edifice stood in the middle of Hyperion Heights, pulsating the source of the neighborhood's malignant infection, the illness that blinded its residents.

At the center of the chaos, the ring-leader, Victoria Belfrey. The woman thought that she was untouchable, believing her building to be an impenetrable fortress. Victoria sauntered through the front doors, exiting the facility with a pretentious demeanor, acting as if she were the star of a film produced, written, and directed by herself.

Strolling along the sidewalk, the short-haired woman didn't spare anyone so much as a fleeting glance. She pulled a set of car keys from her overly expensive purse, clicking on the alarm tablet. With a disinterested sigh, Victoria boarded a deluxe sport-utility vehicle, probably bothered by some insignificant transgression that one of her employees had made.

"Boo!" 

Emerging from the backseat, Tilly hollered loudly, her voice resonating throughout the automobile. Wearing her white, rabbit visor, the blonde laughed as Victoria yelped. Trick, or treat; Tilly had received two for the price of one. 

Eyes widened in shock, Victoria was not amused by Tilly's antics. Unlike her daughter, the older woman didn't have a fondness toward insane golden-haired girls with piercing cerulean irises. Victoria gripped at her chest, like she had seen a ghost.

Ebenezer Scrooge, main character of another novel, _A Christmas Carol_ , written by Charles Dickens. The bookstore by the seashore, a promise that Tilly made to a pretty girl with raven curls. The blonde's head might be rattled with fiction, but sooner or later, real phantoms would gather together to haunt Victoria Belfrey.

"Always wondered." Tilly teased, "Is it better to be feared or loved?"

"My God." Victoria gasped, staring at the blonde incredulously.

"Feared it is then!" Tilly lifted her bunny-shaped mask, "That was kind of fun."

Proud with her mischievous deeds, the blonde grinned. As a cat who ate a canary, she looked pleased with herself. Tilly knew that Victoria Belfrey was the key, but she had no idea what door the blue-eyed woman would unlock.

"How did you get into my car?" Victoria roared.

The astute executive demanded answers, but Tilly had a few questions of her own. Hyperion Heights, an illusion meant to imprison its residents, distracting them from seeking the truth. The blonde could see clearly enough to realize that she wasn't 'Tilly' but her sight remained too blurry to perceive anything else.

"I'm much more interested in how _I_ got to Hyperion Heights." Tilly quipped, "Or rather, how we all got here."

"Who are you?" Victoria sounded intrigued.

"Doesn't matter. What does is, who _are_ you?" Tilly leaned toward Victoria, "Let's see what's under that mask of yours."

Approaching Victoria, the blonde made a motion to touch the older woman's face. Tilly was unable to grasp the abstract concept of figurative masks; her intention might as well have been to tear off the flesh from Victoria's skull. 

Reacting as fast and vicious as a deadly cornered serpent, Victoria pulled out a pepper spray bottle. She didn't hesitate to shoot the lachrymatory agent into Tilly's eyes. The chemical compound bore into the thin membrane of the golden-haired girl's retinas, causing instant painful irritation.

Crying out as liquid burned her face, the damaging fluids seeped into Tilly's optic nerves. She was fortunate enough to find the handle, and pushed open the car door. The blonde scurried out of the vehicle, not remembering to take her backpack with her, afflicted by an overwhelming searing pain. 

Tilly's violent altercation with the older woman seemed to have been fruitless, but in actuality, the golden-haired girl had discovered something important. Victoria Belfrey was a formidable opponent, one that should never be underestimated again.

* * *

Trick-or-treating, a Halloween ritual custom. People in costumes travel from house to house, asking for treats with the familiar phrase 'trick or treat'. The 'treat' is usually some form of edible sweet, and the 'trick' is a usually idle threat to perform pranks on the homeowner's property if no tribute is given. 

Children ran across the sidewalks, giggling and skipping along with containers full of candy. Suburban residences, adorned with Halloween ornaments and decorations, a splendid sight to behold. Disguises and masks, the one day in the entire year where an individual could refrain from being themselves. 

An onyx leather jacket, a short checkered skirt, dressing up as Ivy Belfrey didn't used to be so hard, but as the dark-haired girl dragged her feet through the streets, she yearned to be anyone else. She wondered if Tilly was out there somewhere, thinking about her too.

"I can't believe you couldn't just paint my face." Lucy huffed as she placed a paper bag over her head, "Can't we at least go to the south end of street? They have an amazing haunted house there. This block is so boring."

An impatient voice penetrated into Ivy's sentimental musings. The small brunette marching next to the young woman was responsible for her suffering. Lucy, wearing a black spandex outfit and carrying her pumpkin-shaped basket, a white skeleton embroidered on the fabric. The little girl had wanted to be a dead person for Halloween, which coincidentally, was the same thing that Ivy wished upon her.

Ironic that Lucy would be audacious enough to whine, especially after compromising Ivy's relationship with Tilly. Apparently, the capricious child wanted a skull painted on her face, to complete the theme of the costume.

While sitting at the receptionist desk, Ivy had opted for drawing a bony face on a brown paper bag. _Trick_. A long withstanding traditional activity suited for Halloween, Lucy did not deserve a treat.

"You think _you're_ miserable?" Ivy snarled, "I'm missing out on the annual Masquerade Ball because Mother wanted to be sure her precious Lucy had a good time."

"Well, I'm not." Lucy snapped back, "And you're not missing anything. You didn't get invited to the ball this year. I heard you complaining about it."

The reality of the situation dawned upon the raven-haired girl; no one knew of her relationship with Tilly. The fact that the blonde had been planning to escort Ivy to the Masquerade Ball was unbeknownst to her irritating family. Lucy. Jacinda. Victoria. All  of them believed that the young woman was an undesirable fiend. It would in vain to show up at the Masquerade Ball. If Tilly had truly seen Ivy's inner nature, chances are that she wanted to steer clear from the brunette.

Lucy's assessment of the young woman's character was true, not a single soul had ever cared for Ivy. She had invested so much time in earning the affections of a certain blonde, and the story always unraveled to the same tragic conclusion. It made sense, villains weren't supposed to have happy endings, an ideology that heroes never allowed Ivy to forget.

"You know, I think you should make that bag a year-round look." Ivy growled.

Angrily glaring at her stepaunt, Lucy removed the paper bag from her head. She was upset by Ivy's comment. The hypocrisy of heroes. Lucy was unaware of the damaging hurt that her own remark had induced on the brunette. Sauntering off to the next house, the little girl left Ivy alone with her thoughts.

With an exasperated sigh, Ivy continued to devote her efforts into tracking Tilly down. She kept swiping across social media applications, hoping to find a glimpse of a blue-eyed girl wearing a recognizable red flannel shirt.

Engrossed in a profound exploration of the Internet, the brunette was fixated on the tiny screen of her mobile phone device. Ivy's peripheral vision spotted a brown paper bag.

"Took you long enough. Are you done begging for candy? Want to go home?" Ivy insisted, "I stepped in pumpkin vomit and these shoes are worth more than your life."

"Okay!" An unfamiliar voice responded.

Slowly lifting her gaze, the brunette noticed that the skeleton attire had been replaced with a blue dress. Ivy pulled the brown paper bag from off the unidentifiable child's head. A set of brown eyes blinked, another girl was revealed to be under Lucy's makeshift mask. 

"What?" Ivy yelled, "Who the hell are you?"

"Hehe." The young stranger snickered, running away from Ivy.

A bewildered expression on her face, head spinning around, Ivy started to glance across the street, desperately looking for Lucy. A bunch of children disguised as princes, witches, and fairies, but the half-sized skeleton was nowhere to be found. The little girl had retaliated with a devious trick of her own, shenanigans that threatened to waste more of Ivy's precious time.

"Lucy? Lucy! Damn it Lucy, where are you?" Ivy began to panic, "Oh, Mother's going to kill me."

Wearing a pair of stilettos, heel to the concrete pavement, Ivy stumbled as she walked. It was difficult to move quickly across the streets. Lost in a sea of festive pedestrians, it would be nearly impossible to see Lucy. Disguises, costumes, and mayhem, the brunette tried to navigate through the hordes of people.

Nostrils flaring up in sheer anguish, Ivy threaded a hand through her ebony curls. Her quest to deduct Tilly's whereabouts would have to be postponed. An unfathomable accomplishment, Lucy had managed to ruin Ivy's Halloween twice in one year.


	31. Abysmal Depths

Chapter 31

Abysmal Depths

* * *

 

The sun was perched in the center of the sky, shinning a penetrating light upon the bushy tops of tall oak trees. Filtered through a foliage of leaves, the beams manifested an emerald glow onto the forest. The trickling sound that the water made as it collided onto the surrounding rocks, a tranquil stream could be heard from the distance.

A muddy terrain, full of moss and weeds. Moisture was laced into the air, creating an undoubtedly humid atmosphere. Mosquitoes buzzed around, insects crawling across the wooden bark of trunks. Uplifted roots and fallen branches littered the ground, a walking hazard.

Alice promised that the entrance to Wonderland was near this area, but Drizella had begun to lose faith in her companion's ability to guide. The blonde kept glancing at logs and rabbit holes, as if the path to the foreign world resided inside a small animal's burrow. Rolling her eyes, Drizella wondered if the golden-haired girl might start rummaging through a bird's nest.

To be fair, the trek had only commenced an hour ago. If Drizella were being honest, the morning had been mostly wasted on the cumbersome task of arranging her raven hair into its usual braid. Without any sort of complaint, Alice patiently waited for the brunette to finish her preparations. Drizella supposed that she owed the other girl the same courtesy now.

Coming to a full stop, Alice scratched her head for a second, scoping out the meadow. She hummed in satisfaction, before digging into her leather bag. The blonde grinned, pulling out a green apple and a small tooth.

"Want a bite?" Alice offered, turning to face the brunette, "We should eat, before I use this magical tooth to open up a portal to Wonderland. Nothing is safe to eat in that place." 

Assessing the miniscule denture, Drizella deducted that it must have originated from a squirrel or a bunny. A memory flickered across the brunette's mind. White rabbits. Drizella had read about them when she was younger, special critters with the power to create interdimensional portals to other realms. 

Up until this point, Drizella had doubted the blonde's aptitude for finding a pathway to Wonderland. A fond smile appeared on her face, the raven-haired girl admired Alice's resourcefulness.

"We just ate breakfast." Drizella declared in good-humor, folding her arms.

"That was three hours ago." Alice shrugged.

"Oh. _Three whole hours_? Pardon me, you must be famished then." Drizella drawled out, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Har-har." Alice released a mock laugh.

With a lopsided smirk, Alice stepped toward the brunette. Feet shuffling through the grass, she approached Drizella, trying to pinpoint the exact emotion that glimmered across the other young woman's auburn irises. Alice couldn't tell if Drizella was frightened or aroused, the lines were often blurred between those two emotions.

The blonde took a large bite of the spherical fruit, purposely chewing at a sluggish pace. She swallowed, licking her upper lip suggestively. Alice's head moved toward Drizella, mouth inches away from the smaller girl's face. 

A tangible tension, the proximity agitated Drizella. Inhaling Alice's perfumed scent, her eyes followed every movement of the golden-haired girl's jaw, how the muscles on the blonde's mandible flexed as she munched on the apple. Drizella was captivated, unable to pry her vision away from Alice.

"Are you _sure_ that you don't want a taste?" Alice murmured softly. 

"W-What?" Drizella snapped out of her daze, cheeks reddening.

"Of the apple." Alice smirked provocatively, lifting an eyebrow up.

A challenging act, the blonde was proud of herself for eliciting a flustered reaction from Drizella. Two could play at this game, the raven-haired girl was tired of being teased, as if her feelings were frivolous. She wanted to determine if Alice was equally smitten by her. Such a potent infatuation couldn't be one-sided.

"Alright." Drizella nodded, much to Alice's surprise.

Gazing intently into Alice's cerulean eyes, Drizella coiled her fingers around the blonde's wrist. She leaned down, teeth piercing through the apple, as the fruit remained held in Alice's hand. Juices dripped along the brunette's chin, and against her prudish nature, Drizella abstained from wiping herself clean.

With a specific goal in mind, the smaller girl's tongue brushed against Alice's thumb, at a deliberately slow rate. Drizella smiled smugly as she reclined back, noticing the blush that had developed all over the blonde's face . Alice's coquettish scheme yielded unexpected results.

"G-Guess I'll open that portal now." Alice stuttered, handing the apple over to Drizella.

Sheepishly rubbing the back of her head, the blonde shuffled to the center of the clearing. She faced the vast expanse of the glade. Alice fluttered her eyelids and sighed. She stared absentmindedly at the of petunias and daisies scattered across the field. It was a desolate place, secluded enough to safely host a temporary portal to Wonderland. 

Alice had no desire to go back to that horrible realm, but she wouldn't dare to disappoint Drizella again. A perceptive inkling, the blonde suspected that the dark-haired girl had been disillusioned far too many times in her relatively short life.

Anchoring herself on the gound with both feet, Alice rose one arm up, palm cradling the tooth. The golden-haired girl's breath hitched. For a couple of minutes, Alice toyed with the tiny molar between her index finger and thumb. She was evidently stalling.

Sensing Alice's hesitance, Drizella dropped the half-consumed apple onto the floor, and reached out for the taller girl's free hand. She gave the blonde a gentle tug, drawing her attention.

"What's wrong?" Drizella asked.

"Wonderland brings back awful memories." Alice whispered, "But I also had fun there, with people who I loved and lost."

"I'm sorry, Alice." Drizella muttered, "We don't have to go. I'll find the mushroom some other way."

Truth be told, Drizella had no idea how to obtain the mushroom, and the notion that she would put Alice's well-being before her own needs was truly distressing. The thirst for vengeance dissipated. Drizella couldn't focus on resentment when Alice was by her side.

The brunette noted the concern gleaming across Alice's azure irises. Drizella didn't care about anything else, not even the revenge that she had promised her mother. Alleviating Alice's torment had become Drizella's number one priority.

"No." Alice declined Drizella's generous proposition, "You shared orange marmalade with me, even though it brought back memories of your deceased sister. I'll be fine in Wonderland, as long as I have a pretty sorceress accompanying me."

Intertwining their fingers together, Alice flashed the brunette a heartwarming smile. Compelled by a sentiment that she couldn't control, Drizella found herself returning the gesture. Having formed an emotional attachment, and unbeknownst to both girls, their two hearts pounded in synchronization with one another.

"Take me to Wonderland." Alice chanted, eyes fixated on her palm.

The magical tooth glowed with an intense light, dissolving into sparks and floating off from Alice's hand. The sound of cackling electrical currents, bright beams twisted around. Energy gathering in the shape of a large circle, a sheet rippling waves, resembling a quivering pond.

The portal manifested itself in front of Alice and Drizella, a mess of colorful swirls that hindered their view to the world that lied beyond the border. A nontranslucent mirror, gravitational forces pulled the young women into the unknown. It was a frightening thought, Drizella finally understood the blonde's reluctance to fabricate the supernatural passage.

Pulse racing, fear struck her chest, Drizella brought her other hand to latch around Alice's bicep. She glanced at the golden-haired girl beside her, and was met with a reassuring grin. Drizella's panic quelled, her resolve strengthened by just a smile from Alice. What sort of _strange magic_ did the blonde possess?

"It's called a Rabbit Hole, the portal, that is." Alice chimed, "Don't be scared, hon."

Alice squeezed the brunette's fingers, nodding as she urged her companion to trudge on forward. Most of Drizella's inhibitions vanished, regaining the conviction to resume her quest. Mushrooms. Curses. Grudges. It all faded away when held up against all the joyful moments that the brunette had experienced with Alice during the last couple of days.

An invigorating sensation bubbling in her heart, Drizella tightened her grip on Alice's arm and took the plunge, a forward hop. Sauntering through the swooshing vortex, gusts of wind blew against her raven curls, and yet, she felt safe. With Alice holding her hand firmly, Drizella would willing embark into the abysmal depths of hell.

* * *

Mr. Cluck's Chicken Shack, a fast food restaurant chain that has many different facilities throughout the United States. It specializes in selling a variety of chicken meals, such as nuggets, wings, strips. Morsels of the fowl's meat, cooked in a crispy batter and served with a ration of potato fries. Children and adults both enjoy the unhealthy dishes.

Each place had the same architectural layout, painted with red and yellow stripes along the structure's exterior, a logo of a rooster plastered on a corner of the front wall. A fun and cheerful atmosphere, childish nonsense that Tilly would have to enjoyed. Ivy dispelled the idea from her head. It was hard enough to distinguish one facility from the other, she shouldn't let thoughts of a pretty blonde cloud her mind. 

Heels clicking against the sidewalk, Ivy was aware that Jacinda worked at a Mr. Cluck's Chicken Shack establishment, but she didn't know which location. After visiting three of the restaurants, the brunette had become frustrated. Desperately searching for Lucy, she assumed that the little girl would want to go visit her mother. Finding Jacinda was the key to tracking down the disobedient child.

Arriving at her another shabby joint, Ivy stared through the large window, trying to find Jacinda. The fourth attempt proved successful. She caught a glimpse of the dark-haired woman by the cash register, conversing flirtatiously with Henry Mills. Her older stepsister's brown irises blinked with confusion, she had spotted Ivy.

Eyes widening, Ivy pulled her face back from the glass panel. A sense of dread crept into Ivy's very soul. Jacinda and Henry had grown close. _True love's kiss._  An ancient magic that couldn't be defeated, if the heroic pair pressed their lips together, Ivy's entire world would crumble. Her relationship with Tilly ran the risk of vanishing completely, as if it had never even existed. Alice's returning memories could overtake the golden-haired girl's mind, destroying every trace of affection that she felt for Ivy. Regardless of the lengths that the brunette would have to resort to, she needed to tear Jacinda and Henry apart.

"Ivy, what are you doing here? Where's Lucy?" A shrill voice called out.

Interrupting Ivy's disconcerting thoughts, Jacinda had lunged out through the front doors, causing the raven-haired girl to jump back. Henry stood by Jacinda's side, like a loyal guard dog. It was sickening, how the brown-eyed man followed Ivy's stepsister like a lovestruck fool.

"I assume she had come to find you." Ivy replied in a pretentious tone.

"You _lost_ her?" Jacinda snarled.

"I didn't lose her!" Ivy shot back, "She ran away from me. Now help me find her before Mother finds out."

"My daughter's running around on her own and all you call about is what your mother will think." Jacinda stared at her stepsister incredulously.

Henry gave the brunette a disapproving look, silently agreeing with Jacinda's outrage. Jealousy clawed at Ivy's heart, how she yearned for someone to support her with such ardent passion. Henry didn't even think twice before rushing behind Jacinda, as if his preassigned position was meant to by her side. 

"Please, I'm sure she's fine." Ivy smirked.

"This would have never happened if you'd have let me take her trick-or-treating." Jacinda growled.

"And if you could just get your life together-"

"At least I have a life." Jacinda interjected defensively.

"Please, running around with the guy you hope will be your baby daddy isn't a life." Ivy grinned cruelly, "It's pathetic." 

"He's my friend, but _you_ wouldn't know what having one those is, would you?" Jacinda scowled.

A figurative punch to the stomach, Ivy's arrogant expression fell. She hated how accurate Jacinda's observation was. Her lower lip trembled for a second, Ivy visibly flinched due to the other woman's remark.

To make the situation even more mortifying, Henry looked at Ivy with pity. His chocolate-brown eyes unnerved the raven-haired girl, a gaze sparkling in a different color, but was drenched in the same empathy that Ivy had received from Tilly's compassionate azure irises.

"We don't have time for this." Ivy scoffed, regaining composure, "We need to find your spawn."

"I can't. If I leave right now, Louie will fire me. You know that." Jacinda quipped.

"Well then I guess it's up to me then." Ivy puffed out her chest, "Ivy to the rescue. Again."

Pivoting on one heel, the brunette marched off, aiming to create as much distance from herself and the fated couple as she could. Ivy heard Henry speaking to Jacinda as she walked away, his tone was relaxing and tender. Although the man didn't know that Jacinda and Lucy were his family, he protected the two girls ferociously. Unconditional love came so easy to all of them. 

Henry Mills, the preordained hero of the story. If he were to kiss Jacinda, the malignant spell would be broken, Ivy's schemes would unravel. Rage. Anger. Vindication. The brunette succumbed to her most primal emotions, the aspects of herself that she tried to hide from Tilly. A darkness engulfed Ivy's heart. She had to take advantage of the sympathy that Henry felt for her, to manipulate the man with his misguided naivety.

Tilly would be disillusioned in the person standing behind the mask of Ivy, a molded charade that the blonde had grown fond of. At the raw core, Ivy was just a bitter, rotten girl. She weaved tangled webs of intrigue, and implemented plans to propagandize deception. Ivy Belfrey, claimed to not believe in hope, dedicating her existence to denouncing true love, and vehemently committed to an assortment of lies that she couldn't engrave into her own heart.


	32. Casual Inquiries

Chapter 32

Casual Inquiries

* * *

 

An endless tunnel of blinding light, the descent into Wonderland was a brief journey that felt longer than imaginable. A surrealistic realm where there was no such thing as time, colors looked sharper and more vivid. Petunias. Roses. Daisies. A glimpse of flowers during the fall. The sweet smell of honeycombs hung in the air.

Tumbling onto a pile of leaves and stems, Drizella felt dizzy and lightheaded. She tried to stand up, but her legs wobbled. An arm snaked around the brunette's waist, keeping her steady. Drizella glanced upward, encountering two azure eyes gazing at her with such affection that she blushed under their scrutiny.

"Are you alright?" Alice cupped the brunette's cheek.

"Y-Yeah." Drizella replied, a lovestruck grin on her face as she leaned into Alice's hand.

Content with Drizella's answer, the young woman let her arm drop. She smiled widely, surveying the environment. Something about their current location pleased Alice greatly. The blonde shuffled to the side, gathering her bearings and trying to figure out in which direction to walk.

"I think that the portal dropped us near the mushrooms." Alice informed her cheerfully, "And we can stop for tea on the way."

With a newfound sense of curiosity, the dark-haired girl inspected her surroundings. Drizella found herself in the middle of the most bountiful garden that she had ever seen. Petals of magenta, fuchsia, vermillion, indigo, a neon phosphorescent palette that seemed inconceivable by nature.

The sun appeared embedded into an eerily clear curtain of blue, the sky was without a single cloud in sight. Drizella's nostrils were irritated, inhaling some type of invisible fumes. It made the brunette feel sick and disoriented, reminding Drizella of the time that she stole a bottle of Lady Tremaine's most expensive wine and drank it all by herself.

The ambience in Wonderland was laced with a toxin that hindered the senses, more inebriating than alcohol. The alarming discovery accounted for Alice's nonsensical and carefree behavior. The golden-haired girl had been exposed to the hazardous smog for elongated periods. A wave of intense nausea hit Drizella, and she wondered how Alice managed to withstand the experience.

"Drink this." Alice cooed, placing a hand on Drizella's shoulder, "The plants in this garden emit a wretched gas, this will counter its harmful effects."

The blonde held a vial in front of Drizella. The small glass cylinder contained a strange fluid, green and iridescent. Alice moved the edge of flask toward the brunette's lips, eager to administer the dose.

Drizella didn't hesitate to drink the liquid, trusting Alice's judgment without a doubt. It was so uncharacteristic of the dark-haired girl to rely on someone, but Alice had become the exception to all of Drizella's self-imposed rules. She gulped down the elixir, ignoring its acetic taste.

"Feel better?" Alice readjusted her hand on Drizella's neck, massaging the tense muscles.

"Much better, thank you." Drizella smiled at the blonde.

"My pleasure." Alice bowed chivalrous.

Returning the grin, the corner of Alice's lips twitched upward, she enthusiastically reached down for Drizella's hand. The blonde began trudging across the garden, with a particular destination in mind. Her fingers intertwined with Drizella's own, laced together like a perfectly tied bow.

Trailing behind Alice, the brunette dragged her feet through the grass, creaking with each step, as if the longs blades were composed of brittle parchment, which might have been the case. Every aspect of Wonderland had an artificial constitution, a seemingly fabricated world.

Within a few minutes, all the flowers had dissipated from the area, the scenery transitioned into a pathway full of thick bushes and ferns. It was a drastic change, bright polychromatic floral displays substituted for prickly clusters of plants.

Arriving at the entrance of a labyrinth, Alice tugged Drizella's hand. The brunette was reluctant to approach. Shabby twisting hedgerows, all of them twice as tall as Drizella. Sunbeams had dwindled to a barely perceptible lightening, blocked out by the towering topiary.

"Don't worry. I know how to navigate through here." Alice chirped, pulling Drizella alongside her, "After all, my father was a sea captain, and a famously competent one."

An allegation that couldn't possibly be true, supported by an argument that didn't apply. Each wall of nestled foliage was identical to the next, without a distinguishing marker of any kind, and the profession of Alice's father as a mariner would do little to aid them during this expedition. Drizella giggled despite the foreboding prospect of being stuck inside a twisted labyrinth, the fervent conviction in Alice's tone was difficult to challenge.

Giving the blonde's fingers a gentle nudge, Drizella endowed her faith in Alice, hoping that the golden-haired girl could guide them through the ocean of shrubbery. The brunette felt brazen enough to make casual inquiries about Alice's past, fueled by an atypical yearning to know more about the eccentric young woman.

"Is your father a sailor?" Drizella asked, attempting to distract herself from the fact that the blonde had led down a dead end.

"Well, sort of. He's a retired pirate." Alice jerked the brunette's arm, spinning her around toward a different route, "Killian Jones, maybe you've heard of him. Don't worry, he's a good man now. Papa renounced his thieving ways when I was born."

Killian Jones, trusted friend of Regina Mills, the attractive man with cerulean eyes who had fought off a group of armed guards, using a single functioning hand. Drizella's stomach churned, her throat constricted. Heartbroken by the devastating realization that Alice's father would never approve of their budding friendship.

"N-No, I haven't." Drizella feigned ignorance, "Do you see him often?"

"Well, I would want to..." Alice's voice grew somber, "But I can't. His heart was poisoned by the mushroom that you seek, and he can't be near me."

"Oh." Drizella concealed her selfish relief.

Absentmindedly marching next to the blonde, Drizella became lost in her own thoughts, ruminating over the dubious possibilities. If Alice had limited contact with her father, she might not deduct Drizella's true intentions yet.

It was still only a matter of time; the brunette couldn't play the role of benevolent sorceress forever. She needed to use the mushroom's magic to bewitch the heart of either Ella or Henry. Her whimsical adventure with Alice in Wonderland had an expiration date.

A sudden crunching noise, Drizella was startled out of her grim musings. She glanced down and saw the remnants of a teacup. Pieces of porcelain and glass fragments were scattered across the floor. Looking up ahead, the brunette encountered a ghastly panorama.

"We're here." Alice announced softly, leading Drizella out of the maze.

A huge mahogany table took up most of the vast space in the clearing, covered by a ragged cloth. Stains and blotches on the fabric, a pile of broken pots and cups littered the wooden surface. Hats, napkins, doilies. It once was an impressive dining room, but some type of battle had taken place.  

Chairs had scratches, the cushions torn into. The beast responsible for the extensive damage must have been monstrous. Drizella's eyes roamed across the ruins, until a shiny trinket caught her attention. The object hung over a small kettle, a gorgeous piece of jewelry that the brunette remembered seeing on Cecelia's neck. Her stepmother always wore the chain, adorned with a unique pendant.

"Did you know Cecelia?" Alice's question startled Drizella.

"H-Huh?" Drizella played dumb, "No, I don't know anyone by that name."

"Oh." Alice tilted her head pensively, "You were staring at her locket, so I thought that you might have known her."

Strolling toward the table, Alice budged out one of the few chairs that remained undamaged. She brushed off dust from the built-in cushion with her palm, before offering the seat to Drizella with a charming smile.

A bit apprehensive, the brunette sat down, forcing a polite grin onto her face. Alice knew Cecelia, she must have information on the older woman's current whereabouts. Drizella could never admit that she cared about her stepmother's well-being, the dark-haired girl would rather prefer to act as if she were satisfying her own inquisitiveness. Pitiful lies that Drizella often told herself, concern was solely for the weak.

"What happened to Cecelia?" Drizella folded both hands over her lap.

Alice flounced into a chair next to the brunette, crossing one leg crossing the other. She threaded fingers through her golden unruly curls, anxiously bobbing the dangling foot. The blonde bit her lower lip. She grabbed a hold of a fractured teacup, perched near where her elbow rested on the table. Alice's gleeful demeanor shifted.

"Would you like some tea?" Alice avoided looking at Drizella.

The blonde's gaze stayed fixated on the small porcelain vessel, twirling the teacup around on its saucer. She sighed wistfully, replaying painful images, a tormenting film projected inside her head.

Drizella coiled her fingers over Alice's wrist, forcing the golden-haired girl to release the ceramic tableware. She cupped Alice's face tenderly with the other hand, her thumb stroking the blonde's cheek.

"Tell me what happened." Drizella coaxed, "Maybe it'll help you feel better."

With a resigned shrug, Alice nodded in agreement. Venting might serve as a therapeutic catalyst, enabling the start of a healthy grieving process.

"The Jabberwock happened." Alice muttered, lifting her head to look at the brunette.

The Jabberwock, a legendary creature. Most travelers who claimed to have visited Wonderland have the tendency of recollecting stories about the vicious monster. An enormous animal possessing bat-like wings, a long snout filled with razor-sharp fangs, and large reptilian claws. The beast resembled a hideous dragon.

"Cecelia was so valiant and strong. She fought bravely, all of my friends d-did..." Alice stammered, "Only I survived..."

Drizella didn't deem it necessary to hear any of the gory details, the raven-haired girl understood enough. Cecelia had perished in the onslaught, and the notion that she forced Alice to relive those memories was wracking Drizella with guilt. She slithered her arms around Alice's trembling body, enveloping the blonde in a hug.

"I killed the Jabberwock, but only I survived..." Alice commented self-depreciatingly.

The young woman nestled her head into the crook of Drizella's neck. Alice wasn't exactly crying, but she did obtain a great deal of comfort from the brunette's embrace. An intriguing observation, simply a few words from Drizella had compelled Alice to recollect the horrific incident that she had been vehemently suppressing.

"And I am _so_ very glad that you survived." Drizella tightened her hold on Alice, nuzzling her chin into the blonde's messy tresses.

The dark-haired girl's presence assuaged the conflict bubbling within Alice. Reclining back from Drizella's arms, she appraised the genuine concern swelling in those two gorgeous auburn irises.

"Cecelia had a cursed heart too, same as Papa. She couldn't be with her family because of it." Alice mumbled, "An individual with the curse isn't able to approach the one that they love without hurting themselves."

Sliding back a sleeve, Alice exposed her left arm. She revealed a peculiar mark on the area above her wrist. It almost looked like a jagged scar, encrusted into the blonde's flesh.

"People who are touched by their loved one who has a poisoned heart develop this mark." Alice explained, "Cecelia was trying to find a cure..."

Drizella gasped, remembering that her father had a similar impression on his skin. Cecelia disappeared to protect Marcus from her cursed heart. The woman hadn't abandoned her family; she was trying to keep them safe.

Tracing her fingertips across the blonde's arm, Drizella failed to notice the intimacy behind the soft caresses. Touching Alice in a such a lackadaisical fashion had become a common occurrence. Drizella didn't even think twice anymore, and Alice never gave any indication that she was bothered by the loving gestures.

Drizella pondered for an instant, like a silly child harboring an infatuation. If the mushroom's toxins fell upon her own skin, would another imprint appear across Alice's arm? Did Drizella's love have to be corresponded for the curse to take effect, or was her heart too blackened to even matter? 

Alice's ambiguous sexuality no longer rattled the dark-haired girl, it gave her hope. A twinkle in the blonde's eye, a suggestive quirk across her lips, the fluttering of a single eyelid to produce a winking motion, Drizella listed all the undisputable signs supporting the idea that Alice might be attracted to her too.

Seducing a young woman was unfamiliar territory for the brunette. She had spent her entire adolescence being groomed and conditioned to attract a prestigious male suitor, to improve her family's status by marrying into royalty. Brown hair, a chiseled chest, muscular arms, a strong chin, Drizella used to dream of being with a handsome man like Henry Mills.

Taboo. The possibility of falling in love with a girl was substantially repressed, a topic that Drizella had discussed with Anastasia on sparse occasions, and now it monopolized the brunette's every waking thought.

Golden curls, a slim waist, an ample bosom, Drizella couldn't stop obsessing over each one of the blonde's features, listing the traits, imagining how Alice's lips would feel if pressed against her own. A warm tingle simmered in Drizella's abdomen, a pleasant sensation that spread across downward.

"Can I ask you something?" Alice called out to Drizella.

Bringing her hand up to Drizella's head, Alice tucked a wisp of raven hair behind the brunette's ear. Her palm lingered on the smaller girl's jaw, thumb caressing Drizella's mouth, and for an instant, time came to a screeching halt.

Hypnotized in a trance, the young woman stared into Alice's blue eyes, watching them switch from a faint hue of cerulean to a darkening shade of cobalt. Drizella's pulse quickened, throbbing so loudly that the sound rang across her ears.

Frozen with anticipation, the brunette thought that Alice was leaning forward to close the distance between them. Watching as the young woman's lips opened, Drizella became convinced that the golden-haired girl intended to kiss her. 

"If we find the mushroom, can you try to fix me so that I become impervious to my father's curse?" Alice requested meekly.

Drizella's heart stopped, cringing with each syllable that the blonde uttered. Since she hadn't expected much from people in such a long time, the wave of disappointment that washed over the dark-haired girl was a customary ordeal. It hardly came as a surprise that Alice would disillusion her.

"It's j-just... We have been separated for so long, and I feel alone..." Alice's statement trailed off, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Loneliness. An emotion that Drizella could definitely sympathize with, but the cruel and ironic part was, the dark-haired girl didn't feel alone with Alice around. In an extraordinary turn of events, despite her egotistical tendencies, Drizella concluded that she never wanted the blonde to be miserable.

Maybe that's what love was, the overwhelming desire to see another person smile, even at the cost of your own satisfaction. It was karmic retribution that Drizella would learn how to love when the sentiment proved to be futile.

"Y-Yes, I'll try to help." Drizella agreed.

A wide grin appearing on her face, Alice threw both arms over Drizella's shoulders, engulfing the brunette in a bone-crushing hug. She giggled, sweeping Drizella off from floor and twirling the smaller girl around. Alice was thrilled by the prospect of seeing her father again.

Shutting her eyes, Drizella retained her composure. She latched her hands on Alice's shoulders, pressing against the blonde. Drizella chuckled at Alice's zeal, admiring how strong the young woman was. Being settled back down on the ground, Drizella reluctantly pulled away from Alice.

It wouldn't have worked out between them anyways. Alice was the gallant heroine who slayed bloodthirsty creatures, and Drizella dedicated her spare time to harnessing the powers of evil. It didn't seem like a perfect match.

Preordained by fate, both young women eventually had to go their separate ways, a painful acknowledgement that forced Drizella to admit to herself just how much she longed to remain by Alice's side.

Love. Drizella couldn’t recall the exact moment that she had fallen in love with Alice, but none of that mattered anymore. _And they lived happily ever after._ Such a stupid phrase, an epigram that held very little meaning, especially since the ending was the most disappointing part of a tale.


	33. Ephemeral Colors

Chapter 33

Ephemeral Colors

* * *

 

Shifting to the west horizon, the sun began preparing for its routine slumber. Retreating rays of light were smeared across the sky. Lodged between the middle of the day and the night, dusk was an enchanting time, a transient interval that allowed the universe to take a momentarily reprieve.

Under the Aurora Bridge, nestled on top of a monument shaped like a troll, Tilly felt as temporal and fleeting as the twilight. Her mind was a tangled web, a large plate of spaghetti that couldn't be unraveled without making an irremediable mess.

Red. Green. Blue. Orange. Yellow. White. Twist and turn, the results were always the same. Tilly wasn't able to solve the Rubik's cube, because she didn't have to. The answer stood right in front of her, hidden under a veil. Hyperion Heights, the biggest riddle. Pieces refused to fall into place.

Something blocked the blonde's thoughts, an impenetrable wall that she couldn't breech. Two sides of the same coin, struggling for control of the young woman's mind. For some unknown reason, a part of Tilly would rather continue living a lie.

Since the details of her own past were murky, Tilly focused on figuring out who Detective Weaver truly was. Spinning a thread. Gold. Rumpelstiltskin. The brown-haired man behind the mask. Everything came back to a girl. The brunette who fell in love with a beast. Beauty.

A jumbled puzzle that Tilly hadn't been able to arrange in the correct sequence. She remembered her own pretty girl, but the shade of young woman's irises kept changing. Green. Auburn. Ephemeral colors were always taunting Tilly. She stayed fixated on the Rubik's cube.

"Still playing with the puzzle, I see." Detective Weaver had approached the troll monument without Tilly noticing.

The blonde's mind was split in two, and one half was wandering over to a distant world, while the other was fully engrossed in finishing the Rubik's cube. She held a finger up, signaling for Detective Weaver to give her a second to complete the puzzle box.

"Solved it!" Tilly announced exuberantly, tossing the Rubik's cube over to Detective Weaver.

Displaying formidable reflexes, the dark-haired man caught the box in mid-air. He inspected the toy, realizing that even the stickers that hadn't been peeled off from the sides were mismatched. Tilly definitely wasn't mentally stable.

"You seem to be confused about how this works." Detective Weaver stated.

The nonsensical girl leaned back on the stone pedestal, a smug smirk attached to her face. Tilly was on the cusp of some wonderful discovery; she just couldn't decipher how to fill the remaining gaps in her knowledge.

"No, I'm not confused. I finally understand. I just had to see the _whole_ picture. The whole story. See, we all have stories. I have a story. This troll has a story." Tilly gestured to herself before placing a hand on the stone, "Even you, Mr. Weaver, have a story. And it's a thing of _beauty_."

Worried about the blonde's well-being, the older man was unimpressed with Tilly's absurd rants. Victoria Belfrey had called him, claiming that the homeless girl attacked her. The wealthy elitist threatened to use her influence to ruin Detective Weaver's career if he did not control his young informant.

During the confrontation with the esteemed businesswoman, Tilly had left behind her backpack. Rummaging through its contents, Victoria procured a card with Detective Weaver's name written on it, and a bottle of blue pills, prescribed to Tilly. The blonde suffered from some form of undisclosed mental disorder.

A foreboding ultimatum, either Detective Weaver forced the poor girl to take her medication or Victoria would devote all her resources into institutionalizing Tilly at a highly secured mental asylum. With fatherly affection, he cared for the young woman. Detective Weaver did not want any harm to befall on Tilly, especially not at the hands of Victoria's unwarranted cruelty.

"Well, it's Detective Weaver. And the only story I'm interested in now, is why you assaulted Victoria Belfrey." Detective Weaver noticed how Tilly rolled her eyes playfully at him, "Did you see something?"

"See something? Well, I see _everything_." Tilly stood up abruptly, "Now I'm ten feet tall!"

Lifting both arms over her head, Tilly sprang with a hop. She stretched out to simulate that her body had elongated to the aforementioned measurement. The blonde cackled insanely, greatly amused by her own joke.

"Enough with the riddles." Detective Weaver's patience was wearing thin, "Why did you stop taking your pills?"

Scrunching up her face in disgust, Tilly started to pace around. Her behavior was becoming more and more erratic. Everything that the brown-haired man said seemed to antagonize Tilly.

"Those pills, nah. Victoria wants to make me small again, or she wants to make me forget, make me blind." Tilly rambled on, "And I don't want to be blind. Not when I can finally _see_. Not when I am so close, _so close_ to remembering!"

"Remembering what?" Detective Weaver humored the blonde.

"How to make you see again too." Tilly chirped.

"See what? Tilly. What do you know about Victoria Belfrey?" Detective Weaver inquired.

The older man suspected that Tilly might have discovered something incriminating about Victoria. Watching the blonde's childish mannerisms, Detective Weaver deducted that Tilly might be more helpful if he could trick her into consuming her medicine.

The blonde crawled across to the border of the troll monument, dangling her legs over the edge. Tilly's moods were mercurial, as restless and volatile as her body's physical movements.

"If you tell me, we can help." Detective Weaver stated gently.

An arm reaching out, Tilly grabbed the Rubik's cube from the police officer's hand. She waved around the plastic box as if it were the solution to all of their problems.

"The answer is right _here_!" Tilly insisted, "We're all pieces of the same puzzle, but without each other it's impossible to see the big picture. That's why Belfrey scattered us. She made us all wear masks so we can't recognize each other. But soon the masks will come off, and soon you will see who you really are. The good man behind the cop, or wait, is it behind the _beast_?"

A long-winded tangent, the words spilling out of Tilly's mouth were meaningless and ludicrous. Her conviction astounded the older man. What the blonde lacked in clarity, she overcompensated with fervor and passion.

"Come down, come down." Detective Weaver beckoned the blonde.

Gripping each of Tilly's hands, the dark-haired man helped the girl climb down from the concrete structure. Detective Weaver had no idea why his best informant had become so unhinged.

"Look, you know something. Something that is making Victoria Belfrey quite nervous." Detective Weaver wagged a finger at the young woman, "You have to tell me what that is."

"I could tell you, but if you believe me, I'd rather _show_ you." Tilly compromised, her voice laced with determination.

Although Detective Weaver agreed to the terms with a nod of his head, the blonde knew that he was apprehensive. She had to convince him, trigger the memories of his real self. Tilly's mind buzzed with scattered images, a thousand ideas fluttering across her head.

Chamomile, crunched leaves, an herbal infusion made from dried herbs and hot water. A cup of tea solved everything. Elegant black or soulful brown. Two different girls. Tilly needed to pick the one that loved Rumpelstiltskin. She didn't know whose heart belonged to the young woman with raven hair.

Tilly honestly thought that she could make the dual-faced man to see the truth. If Rumpelstiltskin emerged from with the shell named Detective Weaver, the blonde would acquire all the answers that she sought. Tilly felt like a facade, well-crafted and artistically polished, but at her core, the blue-eyed girl doubted that she actually existed.

* * *

The shaded curtain of nighttime had fallen across the city, engulfing erect skyscrapers and tall buildings. Lamp posts flickered on, aspiring to ward off the darkness. The streets were still brimming with people dressed in costumes and disguises.

The Masquerade Ball must have started by now. Countless individuals wearing ornamental masks, attending the party in pairs. Everyone would have a date, couples who had coordinated their outfits to match. 

A casual normality, unapologetically envied by Ivy. She longed to have that humble life with Tilly, to celebrate Halloween alongside her beloved _girlfriend_. The term had crept into the brunette's mind. She had never known how to refer to the golden-haired young woman. No label would ever be enough to effectively capture what Tilly meant to her.

Flopping herself on top of a familiar bench, Ivy recalled the last time that she sat there with Tilly. The blonde had been munching away on an orange marmalade sandwich, a strange choice for a meal. Anastasia's favorite. Tilly was tailored to suit Ivy's interests and desires, a fact that perturbed the raven-haired girl.

Tears streamed down the young woman's cheeks, she silently remained seated on the wooden plank. Ivy renounced her search for Lucy, at this point, she couldn't care less. Tilly was the only person who mattered.

Retrieving a tissue from out of her handbag, Ivy dabbed the flimsy piece of paper on the area below her eyes, cleaning off the residual tears without tarnishing the applied mascara. She needed to apologize to Tilly and earn back the blonde's affections. 

"Ivy?"

Henry's voice pierced into the brunette's melancholy. It was inconceivable, members of the Mills family couldn't allow Ivy to have a moment of peace, not even for a few minutes. The brown-eyed man looked at her expectantly.

An opportune chance, if Henry felt sympathy for her, Ivy could wedge herself in the way of him and Jacinda. She cared too much about Tilly, losing her to Alice's ghost was not an option.

Ivy didn't have to blatantly seduce Henry, if the brunette knew anything about jealousy, by simply being seen with him, she should be able to upset Jacinda. To Ivy's great irony, to protect her feelings for the golden-haired girl, she would have to defeat true love.

"Oh." Ivy wiped her eyes, “I'm sorry. I don't remember calling Swift."

"Just trying to find Lucy. Jacinda sent me a list of her possible haunts." Henry shrugged, gesturing to the mobile phone device in his hand.

"Now Jacinda has you tracking down her kid?" Ivy scoffed, "You really are _desperate_ , even for a self-published writer." 

"Hey, I sold that book. Alright?" Henry defended himself, "Look if you didn't really want to take Lucy out tonight, why didn't you just Jacinda do it? You could have made everybody happy."

How arrogant, as if the clueless man could ever fathom what would make Ivy happy. Then again, Henry wasn't thinking of her when he made the comment. His concerns were concentrated on Jacinda and Lucy, while Ivy's thoughts lingered on Tilly. What a pitiful pair of lovestruck idiots.

"You can't make _everybody_ happy." Ivy seethed, "And you do not want to see Victoria Belfrey unhappy. Why do you think I'm always cleaning up her messes?"

A clever tactic, the brunette tried to agitate both Henry's curiosity and compassion. The pretentious man couldn't help himself, rescuing damsels in distress was engraved within his genetic material. Regina had taught him well.

"Why are you?" Henry sat next to Ivy on the bench, "Why do you let her force you into a role you don't want?"

Ivy sighed theatrically, reciting her lines by heart. The brunette had to convince Henry that she felt lonely. It wouldn't be deception, since without Tilly by her side, Ivy was barely the shadow of a person.

"Because- Without my mother's approval I have no one. Lucy and Jacinda may be apart but they will always have each other, and I'm all alone." Ivy overachieved in her performance as a neglected daughter, "Not that I expect you to understand. You are practically already a part of her little insta-family."

"You want to talk about being alone? Until last week, the only human contact I had was with my Swift riders. I spent all my time in a one-bedroom apartment with unfinished manuscripts." Henry huffed, "And ghosts."

"Ghosts?" Ivy quipped.

"Yeah, yeah, you're not the only on this bench with baggage." Henry confessed.

An anecdote to establish kinship, Henry thought that he could relate to Ivy. Preposterous. The brown-haired man would never be alone, he had Jacinda, shared a precious daughter with the dark-haired woman, and was surrounded by love at every corner. Friends, family, an ideal existence laid within his grasp.

Rotating around on the bench, her tight skirt made it difficult for the brunette to move, Ivy rested her arm on the backrest. She gazed directly at Henry, hoping to appeal to his most primal instincts.

"Okay then so, how do we get rid of it?" Ivy flapped her hand, "The baggage."

Extensively pondering Ivy's inquiry, the confident man truly believed that his own tales of inspiration. He shimmied his head slowly, brown eyes gleaming with optimism.

"Take a chance. Do the scary thing. Hope it all works out." Henry replied.

"Is that what you call what you're doing with Jacinda?" Ivy probed, "The scary thing?"

"I don't know. I'm just figuring it out." Henry admitted, "Same as you."

Ivy softened her combative disposition, pretending to be touched by Henry's speech. Captivating the affections of men was a simple task. Listening to their unnecessary explanations, it would suffice. Ivy acted as if she had heeded Henry's snippet of self-proclaimed wisdom.

"Give me the list." Ivy motioned with her palm.

With a triumphant smile, Henry handed over his mobile phone device. The bright screen showed the list of Lucy's favorite places. Ivy quickly scanned the locations, realizing where little girl was.

"Oh, it's number three." Ivy divulged confidently, "Lucy has been blabbering about that haunted house, all day, it's where she'll be."

Ivy returned the small gadget back to Henry. The brown-haired man lifted himself from off the bench, eager to track down a child that he didn't even know was his. 

"Let's go!" Henry ordered Ivy.

"What-"

"Come on!" Henry interjected the brunette.

Sauntering off toward the suburban area where the haunted house could be found, Henry was on a mission. Ivy hastily stood up from her seat, trailing behind the impulsive man.

Charming. Eloquent. Polite. Henry reminded Ivy of the dashing man that she had once dreamed of marrying. He was handsome, had an articulate manner of speaking, and demonstrated proper etiquette. None of those commendable characteristics meant anything to the brunette now.

Foolish dissertations that held no logistical value, an audacious and reckless attitude, a beautiful young woman with golden hair and glimmering cerulean irises. This time was going to be different. Henry. Jacinda. Lucy. Obstacles that the raven-haired girl had to overcome. In order to ensure her own happy ending, Ivy Belfrey would wage a battle with fate itself.


	34. Worthless Trinkets

Chapter 34

Worthless Trinkets

* * *

 

Homelessness is the condition that torments people who don't have a permanent dwelling, such as a house or apartment. Individuals afflicted by severe poverty, are most often unable to acquire and maintain adequate forms of shelter. Long-term residence in a motel, lounging on top of a park bench, or squatting inside an abandoned building, are examples of various temporary solutions to a persisting problem.

An intermodal container is a large standardized shipping crate, built for different kinds of freight transport, but not designed to be used as a regular sleeping accommodation for human beings. Many of the metallic boxes could be found by the train tracks, deserted and empty. Tilly lacked conventional logic, and she hadn't thought twice before breaking into one of the steel cases. Four-walled structures with a ceiling that didn't leak, what more could a girl ask for?

Inside the container, Tilly kept most of her shabby possessions, anything that didn't fit inside her backpack. For absence of a better term, all of the blonde's items were trash. A discarded small mattress with a few blankets thrown on top, a makeshift cushion serving as the Tilly's bed. Shopping carts that functioned as clothing baskets, cans of expired food, rags, a glitchy lamp, and a crooked wooden table. 

Her belongings originated from the garbage dumpsters, and Tilly had given them a new purpose, a second chance. Tormented by the distant sentiment of mortification, the blonde couldn't remember why she was so ashamed of her scruffy home. Tilly hadn't visited the container in weeks. Was she trying to impress a former girlfriend, the young woman who haunted her mind?  

Brunettes with sad, lonely eyes. A chipped teacup, Rumpelstiltskin would know what to do. He had the ability to fix Tilly’s fragmented soul. She just had to remind Detective Weaver of who he truly was.

With the silvery moon appearing on the velvet sky, the unwinding road became dark and foreboding. Stores and establishments turned on their luminous signs, neon beams glimmered against the shadows of the night. A soft humming sound vibrated throughout the vehicle, tires rolling across the asphalt concrete. Tilly had instructed Detective Weaver to drive them toward the train tracks, a request that the older man agreed to comply with.

"The answers we seek are at the train tracks." Tilly reiterated, muttering the phrase like a mantra.

Staring out the window, Tilly was nervous. She surveyed the lamp posts, admiring how the yellow lights knew their place in the world, the role that they played. A spontaneous hunger pang struck her abdomen, Tilly's stomach grumbled faintly.

"You must be starving." Detective Weaver gave the blonde a paper bag, "Eat."

The brown-haired man's assessment was correct, Tilly hadn't eaten anything throughout the entire day. Over eighteen hours deprived of nourishment, the discerning ordeal had taken a toll on the golden-haired girl’s body. She scrambled inside the package, pulling out a sandwich. Famished and ravenous, the blonde took a bite of the bread, savoring the acetic taste of its filling.

"Hm." Tilly smiled at Detective Weaver, "Guess I'm an orange marmalade girl after all."

A serious grimace on his face, the police officer was eerily silent. Tilly grew apprehensive. Her tongue sensed an odd flavor, a bland sapor that had been masked by the orange jam.

"Wait. Th-This tastes strange." Tilly peeled open the sandwich, "My pills. You never believed me, did you?"

Crunched into a blue powder, Tilly's capsules had been smeared onto the orange marmalade, spread out between two slices of bread. What a cruel trick, Detective Weaver had never placed his faith on Tilly’s assertions.

"I need you to think clearly and you can't do that without your pills." Detective Weaver stated sternly, attempting to hide the remorse that he evidently felt. 

"You mean, _her_ pills. You're not listening to me!" Tilly yelled, "No one ever listens! Those pills don't make me clear, they make me foggy. They make the world go away and that's what she wants. All people ever do is take _things_ away from me. I just never thought it would be you."

Tilly was heartbroken, she honestly thought that Detective Weaver was her genuine friend. The blonde's eyes began to swell up with unshed tears, she glared at the older man, waiting for an explanation.

"Look, I'm not who you think I am." Detective Weaver seemed conflicted.

"No, that's not true." Tilly shook her head.

"Yes, it is." Detective Weaver insisted, unable to bring himself to look at the golden-haired girl as he spoke.

"You're a good man, with a pure heart, and as soon as you remember that you'll realize, you're not alone at all." Tilly declared vehemently, "That you have someone who loves you. Who's waiting for you."

Tilly would trade anything to be as fortunate and blessed as Rumpelstiltskin. She yearned to have someone who loved her with such ardent passion, a devotion that not even death could impede.

"I wish you were right Tilly." Detective Weaver admitted sadly, "I wish I was that good man, but I'm not." 

"That's only because you don't remember, but you still can." Tilly's persistence was unrelenting, "There's still time before the pills make me small again, but we have to go. We have to go now."

A jerking motion, the golden-haired girl reached for the emergency brake. She tugged at the lever, causing the automobile to swerve and slow down. Tilly pushed open the car door, jumping out of the decelerating vehicle.

"No!" Detective Weaver cried out.

Tilly tumbled across the pavement, hitting the street with a thud. Standing up when her body ceased its titubation, the blonde hopped on the elevated curb. She had been lucky, not many people could perform such a careless stunt and saunter away unscathed.

Wheels screeching against the bitumen surface, the friction from the rubber tires coming into contact with the gravel was enough to halt Detective Weaver's vehicle. Stuck in the middle of road, the older man spotted Tilly from afar. Becoming more and more worried for the younger girl's fragile mental state, he hopped out of the parked automobile.

"Tilly!" Detective Weaver called out to the blonde.

Spinning her head around, Tilly noticed a familiar staircase. The golden-haired girl sprinted across the sidewalk, and began climbing the steps. Her medication would soon take effect, Tilly had a limited amount of time left. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. In her mind, she saw a clock counting backwards.

Tilly scurried through the desolate warehouses, an unraveling maze of corners and alleyways. She heard Detective Weaver trailing behind her. His footsteps invoked a faded memory. The image of a beautiful girl with raven hair, following Tilly down treacherous paths. No minutes to spare on daydreams, she had to focus. Gripping the bottom on her shirt, the blonde trudged onward.

"Tilly. Enough with the games." Detective Weaver hollered, "What do you need to show me?"

"I just need to find it!" Tilly exclaimed, "But I remember what it is now."

Turning around a corner, Tilly marched across the floor, dragging her feet. Detective Weaver caught up with the blonde, his patience had been tested. He was thoroughly exhausted.

"Look, you help me, and I'll help you." Detective Weaver tried to reason with the young woman.

Passing by the rusted ruins of an decrepit car, a pungent odor infested the air. The area might as well have been a junkyard. Stacks of wooden pallets, scraps and jettison littered the dreary grounds. 

"I _am_ helping you! Now, quickly. We haven't got much time." Tilly snapped, "I can feel the fog coming."

A cloud encircled Tilly’s perception, trapping her senses in a daze. She couldn’t withstand the toxins coursing through her veins. The sand on the hour-glass was trickling away, in a little while, the last grain would fall to the bottom. Tick-tock.

Approaching a red container, the blonde opened up the steel door. The iron case was being utilized as Tilly's living quarters, her meager abode, filled with miscellaneous objects and worthless trinkets. A denim jacket, tins of cheap food, an aluminum rack crammed near a disheveled cot. Shoddy polyester fabrics bundled together, substituting for proper bedsheets that Tilly could never afford.

"Geez. Tilly." Detective Weaver sighed.

Pacing around in the small space, the blonde was confused. Drowsiness. Nausea. Migraine. A throbbing ache against her skull. The symptoms of the pharmaceutical substances that she had accidentally ingested.

The golden-haired girl pivoted toward Detective Weaver. A series of discordant emotions flashed across Tilly's face. She didn't recognize her own name.

"Tilly?" The blonde's head was a jumbled mess, "Who's _Tilly_? Sorry. I'm afraid I'm not myself, but you're so close to being yourself."

"Okay. Who the hell am I?" Detective Weaver asked.

"That's the greatest puzzle, isn't it?" Tilly procured a ceramic chalice in her hand, "And this is the missing piece." 

A teacup with a golden enamel handle, made of fine white porcelain and decorated with blue patterns. Given to Rumpelstiltskin by the woman that taught him how to love.

"Look at it." Tilly ordered, "Don't you remember? You gave it to me. You said it would help you get back to her. Remind you of how to get back to her."  
  
Detective Weaver surveyed the teacup, but couldn't decipher what was special about it. Other than a crack on the border, the vessel displayed no unique trait.  
  
"This?" Detective Weaver pointed at the chipped dinnerware, "It's just a cup."  
  
A crestfallen expression on her face, Tilly let her arm drop. The blonde inspected the teacup, as if she truly believed that the fractured utensil had magical properties.  
  
"You said it would work. No, I-I remember now." Tilly struggled against her medication's hazy influence, "We, we knew each other before, before in that other place. Yes, that's it! Though you had a different name then. What was it? Sheepshanks? Spindleshanks?"  
  
Nonsensical gibberish, the young woman was blabbering about ridiculous concepts. Everything that Tilly said was utterly absurd.  
  
"Oh, you've gone mad." Detective Weaver shifted too close to the blonde.  
  
"We're _all_ mad here!" Tilly declared exuberantly.   
  
Taking advantage of the older man's closeness and his lowered guard, Tilly snatched the police officer's gun from out of his jacket and shoved him back.  
  
"Oh." Detective Weaver groaned, "Tilly put the gun down."  
  
A deadly weapon laid in the hands of a crazy girl. Tilly's fingers trembled as she aimed the nozzle at Detective Weaver. The brown-haired man knew that he was in danger.  
  
"Now!" Detective Weaver roared.  
  
"No. Sorry. I don't have a choice." Tilly apologized, "The teacup didn't work."  
  
The voices in Tilly's head were telling her what she must do, but the blonde was reluctant to obey. The noises intensified, ringing painfully through her ears. She longed to make the buzzing stop. Rumpelstiltskin, he had given Tilly a task and she had to fulfill her vow.  
  
"Why are you doing this?" Detective Weaver couldn't understand the motive behind any of Tilly's actions.  
  
"Because you told me to." Tilly divulged, " _Rumpelstiltskin_."  
  
Pulling on the trigger, a gunshot, the discharge produced by a firearm, a mechanical effect was loud and deafening as it reverberated through the train compartment.   
  
The bullet penetrated through Detective Weaver's skin, drilling a hole into his chest. The man fell down unceremoniously. Blood oozed out from his back, pooling into a puddle of crimson liquid.   
  
A film was projected into Tilly's mind. Envisioning a dark-haired girl hovering above her, and she found herself in Detective Weaver's current position. The blonde had been bleeding out from gashes inflicted on her torso, a gorgeous young woman with a set of auburn eyes pressed her hands on the wounds.   
  
Both of Tilly's palms were sweating, she began hyperventilating, knowing that everything had spiraled out of control. Detective Weaver was dying, because of Tilly's irrational behavior. The teacup slipped out from her slippery fingers, shattering when it crashed into the steel floor.  
  
More than two days without medication, the withdrawal had never produced such dire consequences. The blonde couldn't recall the events that had transpired during the long interval. She woke up to the banging jolt made by the revolver, meeting the gruesome sight of a gravely injured Detective Weaver.  
  
Tilly had to hurry. Find an ambulance, summon the paramedics, the older man required immediate medical attention. If the authorities decided to lock her up, Tilly would gladly accept the suitable repercussions for her transgressions. No amount of chemical medicaments had the potency to erase the blonde's moral code, nothing that could happen to Tilly took precedence over saving her dear old friend's life.


	35. Stolen Kisses

Chapter 35

Stolen Kisses

* * *

 

A mushroom is the fleshy, spore-bearing fruiting body of a fungus, composed of a thick trunk-like bottom portion known as a stipe, and an umbrella-shaped cap called a pileus. Most are small, several inches in height, and propagate amongst the shade, inside of secluded caves. 

Unlike actual plants, mushrooms do not require light or photosynthesis to develop. The environment must be dark for mushrooms to spawn. The air needs an excessive amount of moisture, and the atmosphere should preferably have cool temperatures. Feeding off decomposing leaves, dung, mulch, the sprouts absorb the decaying matter contained in those substances. Thriving within the shadows and the cold, consuming nutrition from the dead, fungi are evidently sinister living organisms.

It was impossible to determine where to find mushrooms in Wonderland. As Alice led them down a path full of hedges, Drizella saw large mirrors blossoming from the shrubs and leaves. The brunette accepted that the conventional rules of nature didn't apply in the ridiculous universe. 

The mushrooms could be perched on top of an evergreen tree, or lounging at the center of a volcano. This realm lacked logic, abiding to an arbitrary set of principles. If mirrors could be generated on the stems of a living plants, then fungi might as well be located inside the eggs laid by a peacock. In Wonderland, everything that Drizella had ever studied about biology was voided.

The blonde strolled toward the frames, staring at the smooth sheets of crystal. She tilted her head to the side to assess them. Alice hummed in contentment, trailing her fingers along the glossy surface briefly before skipping away from the mirrors and returning back to Drizella's side.

"These mirrors are interdimensional passageways. They lead to back to our world, opening portals along different sections of the forest." Alice explained, "Now, down this way to the mushrooms."

"You lead, I follow." Drizella smiled at Alice, "This place doesn't make much sense to me."

"Some things don't _need_ to make sense." Alice smirked, making an underlying implication that Drizella failed to notice.

Expecting Alice to take her to an isolated tunnel or a sequestered cove, Drizella was shocked when she found herself in a vast field of enormous mushrooms, ten feet tall, at the very least. It almost looked like a cluster of huts, a picturesque town where all the houses had round, red rooftops.

The sun continued to shine in the sky, a permanent fixture in Wonderland. Time moved differently, days and nights were whimsical transitions. The laws of science didn't appear to apply since mushrooms germinated exponentially in dry meadows with considerable illumination.

"Over here." Alice chirped.

Nudging at the brunette's side with her elbow, Alice pointed to an area under one of the gigantic fungus stipes. A proud smile plastered on the golden-haired girl's face. Beneath the veil of shade, a group of normal-sized mushrooms laid. Crimson caps, adorned by white dots, Drizella kneeled down, pulling out a book from her satchel.

"Let's see." Drizella surveyed the specimens.

In a nonsensical realm, smaller mushrooms leeching off from bigger mushrooms was a rational scenario. Alice rested both hands on her own waist, swaying as the brunette inspected the sequestered garden of bewitched fungi.

Flipping to the correct page, the image matched. Brown eyes widened in surprise. Alice had actually taken her to find the cursed sprout, despite knowing all the dangers and risks that came with misusing the poisonous mushroom's toxic properties.  

Alice trusted the brunette without inhibition. Naivety, a character trait that Drizella usually despised, but the cheerful girl exhibited an adorable sort of innocence. Love had a way of changing a person's perspective. Pathetically captivated by Alice's charms, Drizella thought that all of the young woman's eccentric mannerisms held an endearing quality. 

A one-sided admiration, Drizella's affections for the golden-haired girl were not reciprocated. Alice longed to be with her father, Drizella was just a 'pretty sorceress' who could assist her, therefore, the brunette needed to dispel those weakening sensibilities. Alice should simply be a pawn to her as well. It would be better to pretend that befriending the young woman had been part of an elaborate plan to obtain the mushrooms. Repressing emotions, Drizella's effective coping mechanism when it came to managing her emotions.

With the blonde's susceptibility to unrelenting optimism, it should prove easy to manipulate her in order to further an egotistical agenda. There was no reason for Drizella to be reluctant about betraying her golden-haired companion. If Alice didn't genuinely care about her, why must Drizella value the other girl's feelings? 

A scheme manifested itself inside of the brunette's head. She could use Alice to lure Ella and Henry into a carefully concocted trap. Drizella had to convince Alice that she would cast a spell to make the young woman immune to Killian's cursed heart. 

Once Alice realized that the incantation did not take effect, she should run back to the absurd realm. Always eager to perform the roles of altruistic heroes, Ella or Henry were bound to follow the golden-haired girl down a Rabbit Hole, the aptly named portal that led to Wonderland.

The malicious proposition sounded extraordinary and efficient, but Drizella's heart ached when she imagined how devastated Alice would be. It was an inexplicable concept, even though the brunette had not hesitated in viciously murdering her handsome fiancé, Prince Gregor, she couldn't bear the notion of hurting Alice.

"You found them..." Drizella's tone indicated her displeasure, she didn't want her adventure with Alice to end.

"Of course!" Alice grinned, "I'd never let you down."

The blonde's statement was meant to comfort Drizella, but it only afflicted a great amount of pain. Alice appreciated their comradery even if she yearned to be with Killian. It wasn't the young woman's fault that she had a doting father who loved her. Drizella couldn't relate to the sentiment, but the dark-haired girl hated the idea of Alice feeling as empty and hollow as she did. 

Drizella moved in slow-motion, prolonging the inevitable. She plucked a couple of mushrooms from off the ground at a sluggish pace, carefully wrapping the sprouts in a handkerchief. As Drizella coiled the fabric around the fungi, she realized that it belonged to Alice. The golden-haired girl had given Drizella the piece of cloth when she slashed her palm against a vine.

"Oh, this is yours." Drizella was about to untangle the handkerchief from the mushrooms when the blonde spoke.

"No, please keep it. To remember me by." Alice requested as she started to rummage through her leather bag.

"Are you sure?" Drizella asked.

The brunette stood up, holding the bundled mushrooms in her hand. She watched curiously as Alice scrambled around in her leather bag, searching for an elusive item.

"Yes. You see, my father gave me _this_ , to remember him by, and I always keep it with me. It's my most treasured possession." Alice unclenched her fingers to reveal an alabaster horse figurine, "It's a chess piece, a white knight."

A rush of recognition flooded into the brunette's mind. The crumbled tower. The deserted ruins where Drizella had found a meager chessboard set that was missing two pieces, a white knight and a black rook. The coincidence seemed too much, compelling Drizella to reach inside her pocket. She clutched her own obelisk figurine, the black queen, wondering whether to disclose the information to Alice or not.

Drizella shouldn't succumb to sentimentalities, but she felt connected to the chess piece, as if keeping a trinket that had once been in Alice's possession would soon be the sole remnant of their brief friendship's existence. She pulled out her hand, leaving the tiny statue in the pocket's safe prison.

When Alice meets with Killian Jones, she'll learn the truth about Drizella. The young woman who had forsaken her kind mentor and mercilessly killed a prince. Drizella Tremaine, as cruel and wicked as her mother. Alice was no longer going to see her as a benevolent enchantress, the brunette would resume her role as the evil witch of a traditional fairytale.

Fate mocked Drizella, establishing an assortment of links between her and Alice that could almost be considered destined. The suffocating corset. A fleeting bond with Cecelia. Matching chess pieces. Alice and Drizella, young women whose lives were intertwined long before they had even formally met each other.

"I haven't seen Papa in a long time..." Alice paused, grasping the white rook in her hand, "So even if your spell is just temporary, that would be enough for me."

With a despondent shrug, Alice shoved the figurine back into her leather bag. She shifted her gaze toward Drizella, waiting for the dark-haired girl to honor the promise that she had made.

The moment that those two cerulean irises turned to glance at her, Drizella's breath hitched. Conflict boiled up within the brunette. Drizella wanted revenge against her mother, but she still hoped to preserve the glint of innocence in Alice's eyes, to prevent the blonde's radiance from being snuffed out by disillusionment. 

"I'll do my best." Drizella lied, "But once I cast the enchantment, you have to hurry. I can't be certain about the duration of its effects."

"That's alright. I'll jump into one of the portal mirrors." Alice nodded, gesturing to the reflective pieces of glass near the entrance of the mushroom garden.

Necessary deception, the ends would justify the means, but Drizella took no pleasure in tricking the young woman. The dark-haired girl wished that she really had the power to cure Killian's poisoned heart, or at least, to make Alice impervious to her father's cursed affliction.

Taking a deep breath, the brunette fiddled with a loose string on the fabric of her cloak. She was stalling, shuffling both feet inwardly. Drizella didn't know how to say goodbye to the only person who had ever made her feel like she could more than the vindictive monster that Lady Tremaine created. 

"W-We should say goodbye, before I place the spell on you." Drizella stammered anxiously.

Worried about the tremble that she could detect in Drizella's voice, the blonde stepped forward. An arm extended out, Alice cupped Drizella's cheek tenderly, grinning with reassurance.

"Hey, don't worry. We'll see each other again." Alice sensed that the brunette was concerned, "I know that you wouldn't understand, because you're so strong and independent, but I need to see my father, at least just once."

Fingers coiling around the hand that held her face, the brunette's head bobbed down in response. Drizella was unable to formulate a proper sentence without shattering her composure.

"Do you need to look at the scar on my arm?" Alice murmured, noting that Drizella's hand was still clutching her wrist.

Stomach twisting into knots, Drizella grew nervous. She needed to cast a fake spell, and give a performance that Alice would undoubtedly believe. The brunette weighed her options, debating the choices that were available.

Staring at a pair of gorgeously brightened-up azure orbs, an idea sprung into Drizella's mind. Her subconscious echoed a suggestion that was greedy and self-indulgent. During the course of Drizella's miserable life, the dark-haired girl had wanted for many things that she never did receive. This would be Drizella's final chance to acquire what she coveted the most from Alice.

"No." Drizella shook her head, "Just close both eyes and place your hands on my waist." 

Eyelids fluttering shut, hands gliding to settle on the smaller girl's hips, Alice complied with a warm smile. Her faith in Drizella was unwavering, she didn't question any of the brunette's orders. 

Not wasting a single second of the gracious opportunity, Drizella brought her arms over the taller girl's shoulders. She surveyed Alice's face, idolizing every elegant contour along the blonde's jawline. Beauty. Drizella had never known what the word meant until she encountered Alice.

Adjusting an arm, Drizella latched onto the blonde's neck. Heart pounding against her breastbone, she pushed down on both toes, stretching out upward. Inches away from Alice's face, Drizella's pulse quickened. She leaned in, eliminating the distance between them. A twinge of hesitation, Drizella's breasts rose with a preparatory intake of air. 

Alice's intoxicating perfume wafted into the dark-haired girl's nostrils and sparked an impulse inside of Drizella, giving her all the motivation that she required. Surging forward with an ardent passion, Drizella used both hands to cup the blonde’s chin, keeping the taller young woman's head steady. Knowing that she would never be granted a second chance, Drizella smashed her lips against Alice's mouth. 

Desperate and sloppy, the foreseeable characteristics of a misguided young woman's first kiss. Drizella wrapped her arms tightly around Alice's neck. She raked her fingers through a mane of yellow curls, digits entangled with the smooth tendrils.

It took less than a minute for Alice to react. Drizella suddenly felt two hands tug at her waist. The golden-haired girl kissed Drizella back with the same fervent urgency. Nibbles and pecks, their lips fell in time with each other, bodies pressed closer, arms holding tighter. Drizella ran her fingertips along Alice’s arms, counting how many tone muscles resided in the blonde’s biceps. 

Alice's sensory receptors were reporting the brunette’s every action, the tickle of Drizella's nose skimming over her cheek when the smaller girl's head tilted to one side. It amazed Alice, how perfectly they fit together. She was nearly drowning herself in Drizella's addictive floral scent.  

Neither young woman had ever experienced such a wave of ecstacy, a mounting ardor coursing through their veins. They crashed together, holding on as if they were each other's anchors, the only way to stay firmly planted as their world spun away, replaced by the deeper, warmer embrace of lustful mouths. Sucking on Alice's lower lip, Drizella never thought that she could be this daring.

With the intensity of ice clashing with fire, a sharp contrast, Alice's lips were so soft and tender, pliable against Drizella's impetuous and greedy mouth. Two sets of lungs scorching, strained as they were denied oxygen, Drizella's time was up. 

Pulling back from the young woman, Drizella released the other girl's lips. Alice was grinning like an idiot, completely unaware of the brunette’s inner turmoil. Chest heaving up and down, face flustered and blushing red, nothing could wipe the smile off from Alice's face.

"Wow, that certainly felt magical." Alice complimented, "Thank you."

A wry laugh escaped Drizella's throat, she rested her forehead against Alice's own, for several seconds, panting and gasping. The brunette's senses were overstimulated, her plump lips remained swollen and puffy, head still reeling from the breathtaking kiss.

"Goodbye, Alice." Drizella whispered wistfully, her thumb grazed the blonde's bottom lip, "I hope that you find your Papa."

"See you later, pretty sorceress." Alice chimed.

Reality reared its ugly head into Drizella's fantasy. To the young woman, she was merely a _pretty sorceress_ , a temporary figure in Alice's narrative. The blonde would return to her father's side, aligned with the brave heroes and the righteous saviors. The pure-hearted girl was meant to be amongst them, surrounded by light and joy.  

With a lopsided smirk, Alice retreated back toward the realm-jumping mirrors, leaving Drizella behind. The raven-haired girl's heart squirmed and struggled, unable to accept that Alice had to go.

For an instant, Drizella imagined that this must be what having a soulmate felt like, but the truth was, Alice deserved better than her. A few stolen kisses were more than enough for Drizella, a generous self-claimed consolation prize. Alice lived in a resplendent daydream, where someone as dark and jaded as Drizella, could never truly belong.


	36. Forests

Chapter 36

Forests

* * *

 

Forests are more than a collection of trees, these habitats are filled with essential resources, allowing life on earth to prosper and thrive. Hundreds of people depend on them for their livelihoods, whether it be provident farmers who rely on the fertile soil, or audacious hunters in search of easy prey. Forests provide habitat for a vast array of creatures, many of which are undiscovered.

These ecosystems are complex webs of organisms that include plants, animals, fungi and bacteria, with distinctive rainfall amounts and prevailing temperatures. Coniferous locations are dominated by cone-bearing trees, like pines and firs that can revel in northern latitudes. Many temperate forests house broad-leafed trees, such as oaks and elms, which can turn beautiful shades of orange, yellow and red in the autumn season.

For years, Alice had been locked inside a tower, unable to explore the wilderness, simply observing nature's wonders from a far. She was born inside the tall structure; a witch's duplicitous spell had condemned her to a life of imprisonment. Killian did the best that he conceivably could, bringing Alice books and novels. If the golden-haired girl wasn't going to experience adventures on her own, she should at least be able to read about them. Biology. Mathematics. Literature. Foreign languages. Alice absorbed endless amounts of knowledge.

In regards to nature, although the climate was susceptible to variations, all forests could be used as shelter, a sequestered refuge for individuals who don't want to be found. Alice had heard rumors of a small army, rebels who were gathering to form an impressive resistance against Lady Tremaine's sinister rule. Led by a former princess named _Tiana_ , stories of their achievements were spreading across the land.

A few key figures stood out. _Ella_ , the heroic maiden who had once been Lady Tremaine's stepdaughter, defying the cruel woman's wishes and vowing her allegiance to Princess Tiana's righteous cause. Mistreated and abused by Lady Tremaine, the brunette's unpleasant relationship with her stepmother fabricated an ominous cautionary tale. No one would be spared from Lady Tremaine's path of destruction, not even surrogate family members.

Since protagonists often come in pairs, Ella was destined to cross paths with _Henry Mills_ , a daring interloper. His grandfather, an older man known as _Rumpelstiltskin_ , had asked Alice to scare Henry away from this forsaken dynasty. He was the reason why the blonde had attended the royal ball, to drug the unassuming lad, and keep him out of Lady Tremaine's dangerous clutches. She had failed, Henry did not heed Alice's warnings. Falling in love with Ella, he wouldn't dream of leaving her side.

Either way, Alice had at least tried to fulfill Rumpelstiltskin's wishes. The man had recently lost his wife, the blonde didn't want to see him lose a grandson too. He appeared to be a kind person, and Alice had been taught by her father to always help someone in need.

Her Papa, _Killian Jones_ , the golden-haired girl missed him so dearly. Recollections of his heroic exploits echoed throughout the villages and towns. He had become a benevolent asset to Princess Tiana's militia, Alice's heart simmered with glee, at the notion that her father was now a chivalrous gallant, a man of principle. He had refused to aide Lady Tremaine, joining forces with the band of noble-hearted travelers and valiant warriors.

Every great odyssey is incomplete without a villain. _Lady Tremaine_ , the malicious usurper. She had killed the monarchy, and taken control of the kingdom. The older woman was influential, supported by a multitude of wealthy aristocrats and the despotic elitists. At the humble lodges where Alice had resided, decent folk whispered about Lady Tremaine's ruthlessness. In vulgar taverns, crude men spoke of the female tyrant's attractive daughter, a gorgeous girl with raven curls and an exquisite figure. 

Curious since birth, Alice thought that she might catch a glimpse of Lady Tremaine's only child at the royal ball, to see if the magnificent descriptions of the young woman's beauty held up in actuality, but the blonde had been distracted by another girl's struggle against a binding corset. Alice giggled to herself. To be honest, sharing the humorous moment with the pretty sorceress was probably a lot more interesting than acquiring a fleeting glance from a fiend's haughty offspring. 

Alice smiled as her mind ruminated on _Drizella_ , and the fortunate encounter. According to the townpeople's murmurs and gossip, Lady Tremaine's daughter had killed the prince that she was going to marry, her dutiful fiancé. Alice no longer had any desire to view the murderous young woman, she disbelieved that the nefarious girl's reputed glamor could outmatch Drizella's captivating radiance. Fate always finds a way to intervene. Meeting the dark-haired sorceress had been a better use of her time.

A series of events, all converging into a single occurrence. Alice meandered through the woods, knowing that the pillars of smoke adorning the sky indicated how a campsite was nearby. She trekked further into the vast expanse, trusting the burning aches of her heart to bestow accurate guidance.

Arriving at a flourishing meadow, Alice stumbled across a bickering couple, Henry and Ella. The blonde didn't know what the man and the woman were arguing about, but a thick sexual tension enshrouded the duo. What a wondrous coincidence, the two heroes knew exactly where Killian was, and both of them agreed on a sole philosophy, a beloved daughter should be reunited with her doting father. The final scene unfolded, trailing behind Henry and Ella, she longed to see her father, palms sweating and chest heaving.

Several meters eastward, Alice counted the steps from where she was. Her eyelids squinted, entering a clearing. The familiar man with black hair stood in front of a beautiful older woman who was sitting on fallen tree trunk. Alice willed her vocal chords to call out, but she became awestruck, admiring her father's enchanting appearance. 

"Papa?" Alice's voice resonated through the branches, starling a few anxious birds.

" _Alice_?" Killian turned around cautiously, "Alice, is it really you?"

The dark-haired man approached Alice, incredulously surveying the blonde, debating whether she was an illusion or not. Eyes widening in surprise, Killian couldn't believe that his daughter had escaped her imprisonment.

Alice grinned brightly at Killian, both hands folded against her chest. She couldn't stop smiling, an overpowering sense of joy filled her heart.

"Yes, yes, it's me. But is it really you?" Alice giggled uncontrollably, "You're, you're so young."

The father that Alice remembered had a large belly and a wrinkled face. An aging man, his hair was full of grey strands, messy and unkempt.

Killian looked about thirty years younger now. Raven, slicked-back tresses, a lean and muscular physique, accompanied by fresh, flawless skin. A hook remained in place of one his hands.

"It was magic. I just-" Killian paused before changing the subject, " _Alice_ , what happened? How did you, uh, how did you escape the tower without me?"

The former pirate stumbled away from Alice clearly attempting to avoid touching his daughter. Killian was apprehensive, pacing around the blonde.

"Well, it's a _long_ story, Papa, but well, I'm here now." Alice laughed, leaning in to hug Killian.

"No, no, no. Don't. You know my heart is poisoned." Killian waved his hands, "You can't come near me." 

"No, it's okay. I-I found a cure." Alice explained, "I've been shielded."

A sweet memory flashed across Alice's mind, provoking a nervous fluttering inside her stomach. Thinking about the brunette induced a highly pleasurable sentiment that Alice couldn't comprehend. How soft and pliable Drizella's lips had felt against the golden-haired girl's own. Engraved onto the blonde's spirit, the kiss must have been a raw display of impeccable magic. Alice couldn't forget the tingling sensation, the delicious aftertaste that Drizella's saliva left in her mouth.

"A _cure_?" Killian inquired hopefully.

"Yes, Papa." Alice nodded excitedly. 

"I've missed you so much." Killian lunged forward, arms open to grab a hold of his daughter.

Alice pressed against her father's chest, snaking her arms around the dark-haired man's neck. Their gentle embrace lasted for less than a second before a gravitational force pushed Killian away from the blonde.

"Papa, no!" Alice shrieked.

With a thunderous slam, Killian's body hit the ground. Groaning in pain, the man grasped at his breast. A fluorescent green glow developed over his heart, indicating that the curse had been activated.

"Hook!"

A brunette screamed out, running toward Killian's side. She placed her palms on the dark-haired man's afflicted area. The stunning woman appeared to be some type of enchantress, alleviating Killian's pain.

"This isn't supposed to happen!" Alice exclaimed, "We're cured!"

Tears in her eyes, Alice dashed off, scurrying out of the campsite. She ignored the people hollering her name. Two set of thudding footsteps, Henry and Ella were racing after Alice, but the blonde didn't care. Smothered by shame, she couldn't bear to look at anyone.

Sprinting through the forest, the distressed girl hopped over logs, dodging elevated roots. Disappointment enraptured her heart. Alice needed to get away from Killian, she had already placed her father's life in jeopardy. If the blue-eyed man suffered irreparable damage due to Alice's capricious yearning to be with him, she would never forgive herself.

The pretty sorceress had warned Alice that the incantation might not yield any favorable results, but the blonde was impulsive and reckless. Her irresponsible actions had garnered perilous consequences.

Wonderland, an intoxicating place. The blonde lost a piece of her soul every time that she visited the ludicrous realm. The bewildering noises in Alice's mind had been silenced for a while, to the point in which she assumed that the hazardous effects of interdimensional travel had worn off. Maybe it had just been Drizella, keeping Alice's sanity anchored with her mere presence, but the golden-haired girl would never know now. Drizella's companionship was another thing that Alice’s impatience had deprived her of. She highly doubted that the dark-haired girl was waiting for her back at the mushroom garden.

Pulling out a small tooth from her pocket, Alice summoned a Rabbit Hole. The swirling energy created a portal, a ripple in the fabric of time and space. The blonde jumped into the swooshing vortex, feeling a magnetic whirlwind disorganize her golden curls. For as much as she hated Wonderland, Alice preferred to go back to the nonsensical universal, rather than risk the chance of causing her father's death, and truly losing him forever.

* * *

The scent of dead skin on a linoleum floor, nurses and doctors flooded the emergency section of the hospital. Yelling out orders, administering sedatives, and providing haste aide to those in need. The sense of urgency lingered in the ambience.

Walls colored in a coating of pure white, it almost seemed as the paint was iridescent, hallways glowing brightly. Maybe medical facilities were supposed to resemble heaven, to bring dying patients a moment of peace.

The main lobby had many board games to choose from, idle objects meant to distract worried family members, helping them forget about the ailments afflicting their loved ones for a little while. It was a well-intended concept.

Slumped against a cold bench, waiting for updates on Detective Weaver's condition, Tilly's thoughts were still hazy. She tried to focus on the chessboard in front of her. White. Black. A simple game. The blonde waged a match against herself, a symbolic representation of the turmoil bubbling within.

Her head tilted to the side, Tilly sighed loudly. A perplexing conundrum, the golden-haired girl had forgotten something important, but she couldn't remember what it was.  

Blood. There had been so much of the bodily fluid splattered on the ground. Detective Weaver might die, but Tilly's mind continued to wander elsewhere, fixated on the faint memory of a young woman with short, raven curls. Painstakingly beautiful, Tilly couldn't recall the girl's name.

Why had Tilly shot the police officer? Abstaining from her medication was dangerous, she would never neglect consuming the blue capsules again. This may have been a tragic accident, but it could also serve as an educational tutorial. A simulation that taught the blonde how important it was to follow the daily chemical treatment regime. Needless to say, Tilly had learned her lesson.

"So, you're the informant who got underneath that tough bastard's skin." 

A handsome man approached Tilly. Dark hair and a scruffy beard, features that looked attractive on him. Compassion shined in his cerulean irises, he had a smooth and gentle voice. A prosthetic appendage substituted for one of his arms, the stranger might be a military veteran, a courageous hero.

"Is he going to be all right?" Tilly asked.

"Yeah, he'll live, no thanks to you." The dark-haired man quipped.

Despite his civilian clothes, the blonde could tell that he was a police officer. Speaking with stern diction, the charismatic man must be Detective Weaver's newest partner. He glared at Tilly, his gaze drenched in disapproval. 

"I can't believe I shot him." Tilly muttered, "Am I in trouble?"  
  
The raven-haired man's serious expression changed when he heard the authentic remorse in Tilly's voice. His eyes softened, appraising the blonde's meager appearance. Mismatched jewelery decorated her wrists, she wore black tights that were covered in noticeable holes, an unfashionable brown skirt, and a loose-fitting red flannel shirt. A homeless girl, her freedom was the only thing that she had to lose.  
  
"Look, you weren't in your right frame of mind. He doesn't blame you." The police officer reassured Tilly, "Just don't say anything. We'll sort it all out."  
  
"I'm so sorry." Tilly apologized, "I never want to get so upside-down again. I promise. I'll keep taking my pills."

"Yeah, that would be advisable." The dark-haired man nodded, "So, you, uh, are you playing yourself?"

The detective gestured at the chessboard before taking a seat in front of Tilly. The golden-haired girl eagerly flashed him a warm smile. It wasn't often that people wanted to spend time with a vagabond.

"We're our own greatest obstacle." Tilly chuckled, "Do you play, Detective?"

"Rogers." The man introduced himself, "Yeah, I've been known to dabble a little bit."

Detective Rogers gave the blonde a smirk, reaching out to grab one of the pieces. He shifted the black rook, placing the figurine in a position that threatened the white knight. A tentative move, it was now Tilly's turn.

The blonde laughed, gliding the white bishop in a defensive stance. If Detective Rogers launched an assault at her white knight, she would make a counterattack toward his black rook. She smiled, challenging the man.

"Clever girl." Detective Rogers snickered.

His fingers gripped the black queen, pushing the piece behind Tilly's white bishop, he concocted a trap. Detective Rogers was using the female monarch as bait, forcing the blonde to charge with her white knight. It would clear the path for him to checkmate the golden-haired girl's king.

Eyes roaming across the chessboard, Tilly's blue irises flickered with understanding. An intelligent strategy, Detective Rogers was willing to sacrifice his queen in order to win the match.

Emitting a loud gasp, the sudden shock of a epiphany shook the young girl. A realization dawned upon Tilly. The regenerative effects of her medication had finally ensued, the blonde uncovered what she had been repressing. Memories came flooding in like a colossal tidal wave, washing over Tilly, bombarding her with images and sounds.

Many conversations echoed through Tilly's head, endless recollections of a pretty girl with raven hair, tender caresses and bashful touches. Miss Ivy Belfrey, the young woman who owned Tilly's heart. No pharmaceutical substance could permanently erase what Ivy meant to her.

"I'd _never_ sacrifice my queen. She’s my favorite piece." Tilly whispered softly.

"Hm, what did you say?" Detective Rogers hadn't heard the blonde's murmurs.

Fingertips grazing the black figurine, Tilly's hand coiled around the chess piece. Smiling widely from ear to ear, she looked toward her bewildered playmate. 

Detective Rogers was dumbfounded, not deciphering why the golden-haired girl held his queen within her palm. Confused by Tilly's behavior, he scratched his head.

"You'll have to excuse me, Detective Rogers." Tilly stood up abruptly, "I just remembered something important, or rather, I remembered _someone_ important. I'll be back to check on Detective Weaver in the morning."

"Boy troubles?" Detective Rogers quirked an eyebrow.

"Girl troubles." Tilly corrected, winking at the dark-haired man.

"Then be sure to bring her flowers, a box of chocolate, or make promises that you don't intend to keep." Detective Rogers teased.

With an obedient bow of her head, Tilly heeded the dark-haired man's advice. The blonde saluted Detective Rogers comically, as if she were a soldier who had been dismissed by a commanding superior. A load lifted off her shoulders, the blonde's heart felt lighter after conversing with the police officer. Tilly adored the idea of having a father like Detective Rogers, a compassionate person who didn't judge the girl for her sexual preference or impoverished upbringing.

The feeling was mutual, Detective Rogers waved amicably at Tilly. Despite being dealt a lousy set of drawbacks by fate, suffering through so many hardships, Tilly was still a kindhearted young woman, optimistic, resourceful, and bright. She didn't allow bitterness or resentment to corrupt her soul.

Laughing as he watched the silly girl skipped around the corridor, Detective Rogers couldn't prevent a proud smile from manifesting itself on his face. He commended the blonde for her positive outlook on the world. If the police officer ever had a daughter, he hoped that she would be as free-spirited and resilient as Tilly.


	37. Kindred Spirits

Chapter 37

Kindred Spirits

* * *

 

Under the dim lighting of rusted fluorescent lamps, the odor of hard liquor and cigarette smoke infected the air. The bar was filled with hundreds of conversations told in rambunctious voices, all of them competing with the charming music that dominated the environment, gleeful harmonies resonating throughout the facility. 

Roni's, the neon green sign read across the front of the pub. It was one of the usual places that Tilly lurked around in. A plebiscite restaurant, Ivy wouldn't dare to set a foot inside the crummy establishment unless she thought that a chance to encounter the blonde existed. At least the eponymous owner of the property was nowhere to be found. Ivy couldn't tolerate Roni's judgmental glare, the dark-haired woman despised anyone related to Victoria Belfrey.

Midnight. Staring at a wall clock on top of the wine racks at the bar, the time ticked away, lessening the odds of Tilly arriving. Shot glasses lined up on the wooden counter, Ivy had bought a whole bottle of Irish whiskey, determined to drown herself in alcohol and self-pity, whichever substance consumed her first. The brunette twiddled with a thin lock of her raven hair. Dwelling in the aftermath of a depressing Halloween, she longed for the night to end.

With Henry's assistance, Ivy had located Lucy at a suburban haunted house. In honor of the festive holiday, she bestowed a compassionate reprieve onto the family by allowing the little girl to remain with Jacinda. It was a solid plan, pretend to feel sympathy for her stepsister and garner Henry's admiration.

Concentrating on her malignant schemes was easier than thinking about Tilly. The dark-haired girl picked at a torn section of her stool's cushion, pitifully toying with the loose fiber of polyester foam. She had intended to numb the ache in her heart with an assortment of cocktails, but the drinks didn't seem to be fulfilling their purpose. Either Ivy had a high tolerance for alcohol, or her depression was keeping her from becoming inebriated. The brunette turned around every time that she heard the restaurant's front door chime.

Ivy continued expecting Tilly to saunter through the entrance of the bar. Her mind lost within the cinematic fantasy where the golden-haired girl would march across the floor, the background music swelling up, a quickening tempo right in the instance that Tilly forgave Ivy for her many transgressions. Pathetic, engrossed in a ridiculous daydream, especially since Ivy was relatively sober. 

A loud jingle, ringing throughout the tavern, announcing the arrival of a new client. Ivy pivoted to appraise the guest, a familiar face had walked in. Instead of golden curls and sparkling azure irises, Ivy was met with short brown hair and a matching set of generic eyes. Henry Mills had strolled back into Ivy's clutches.

The ethereal glow of the bar's dismal illumination, the jukebox serenading the patrons with a romantic ballad, the setting was perfect for seduction. Ivy might as well capitalize on the opportunity, to increment more layers into her masterfully woven web of manipulation.

Taking back a swig of whiskey, and slamming the pint-sized glass on the counter, Ivy allowed the liquid to burn against her esophagus, strengthening the brunette's resolve to sustain a charade. The figurative mask went back over Ivy's face. She grabbed the bottle, and made her way across the saloon. Prepped for a performance, the show must go on.

Having ordered cheap beer, of a common and unsophisticated brand, Henry perched himself at a table near the back section of the restaurant. He clearly did not want company, but Ivy couldn't care less. She approached the brown-haired man's area and unceremoniously placed her expensive bottle of whiskey on top of the mahogany surface.

"Trick or treat?" Ivy took the unoccupied seat in front of Henry.

"What's this?" Henry gestured at the liquor bottle.

"Something better than the _cheap_ antifreeze you're drinking." Ivy quipped before toning down her aggressive disposition, "It's a gift for helping me put me first for once. And for listening to my side of the story. No one ever does that."

Lies. Falsehoods. Deception. What Ivy meant to say is that no one ever listens to her story, _except_ for Tilly, who used to hang on the brunette's every word. Helping Ivy search for the violin that Cecelia had gifted her, tolerating all of the dark-haired girl's vague stories, volatile mood swings, and ominous complaints, Tilly never judged Ivy, not even once. 

With his condescending attitude, patronizing behavior, and wide variety of melancholic smiles, Henry had always been a poor replacement for the blonde, a substitute that Ivy fixated on when she felt discouraged in her pursuit of the golden-haired girl. For a little while, he would have to suffice.

"I know it's not gonna be easy to stand up to your mother." Henry noted, a pointless comment, much like everything that the man said.

"Yep. Now, you are going to drink with me until I'm ready to face her." Ivy poured whiskey into two cups, "So, what happened to Lucy and Jacinda? Thought you'd be out getting adult onset diabetes."

"I guess that you're braver than I am." Henry stated with a sad smile.

Twin whiskey drinks, an amber fluid swirling inside a glass. Ivy was sharing a bottle of alcohol on Halloween with a man who she didn't even like instead of admitting that her love for Tilly ran inconceivably deep. All aspects considered, Ivy felt anything but _brave_. 

The brunette's eyes were concentrated on the complimentary bowl of candy in the center of the table. Caramel truffles. Peanut-butter nougats. Chocolate-covered pistachios. A childish notion, she thought about how Tilly wouldn't hesitate to grab a handful of the artistically wrapped treats, probably even convince Ivy to eat some.

"Couldn't take a chance and do the scary thing after all, huh?" Ivy stirred her beverage around, another futile attempt to keep her mind off from Tilly.

"It's _complicated_." Henry sounded conflicted. 

"Hm. Well, to keeping things uncomplicated." Ivy lifted her glass, clinking the crystal chalice against Henry's own.

Ivy's dark eyes glimmered with a hint of disdain for the oblivious man. Henry didn't have a clear grasp on the concept of 'complicated.' He held Jacinda's heart in his possession, her everlasting promise of love, there was no question about it. How could Henry not feel that? 

Gulping down the whiskey, Ivy served herself another glass. Nothing was alleviating the throbbing pain, the pang in her chest persisted. She scooted near Henry, pulling out her mobile phone device. Inflicting harm on someone else because she was hurting, one of Ivy's typical coping mechanisms. Jacinda and Henry were facilitating Ivy's efforts to sabotage their relationship by concealing how they felt about each other.

"Say 'Happy Halloween' for me." Ivy ordered. 

"Huh?" Henry blinked as he placed his glass down on the table.

The snapping sound of the camera, a few pictures for Ivy's social media applications, photographs that were bound to make Jacinda jealous. Technology in this realm was astounding, able to capture frozen moments on a screen. Ivy browsed through the images, ignoring Henry altogether. Analyzing  the lighting and the focus of the lens, the brunette posted the ones where she looked the most flattering,  

"I have to go." Henry finished his drink, "Good night, Ivy."

"Night." Ivy replied curtly.

Ivy didn't even spare him a glance, not bothering to look up from her mobile phone device. She didn't care to watch Henry leave. It wouldn't matter if he was here or not, loneliness resided within Ivy's soul, and being around people had never changed that.

Ever the patriarchal gentleman, Henry dropped a couple of ten-dollar bills on the table, as if his raven-haired companion couldn't afford to pay for her own beverages. He gave Ivy a faint smile, before excusing himself. The stomping thuds of the man's retreating footsteps grew fainter as he marched on farther away.

"Well, that certainly was an _appropriate_ ending to the worst date ever." An amused voice chirped, reverberating from behind Ivy.

It took Ivy less than a millisecond to recognize the animated tone. Spinning around on her chair, Ivy was met with the two sparkling cerulean irises that she had been yearning to see. The brunette's heart skipped a beat, wondering if she was hallucinating. 

Yellow unruly curls, ripped stockings, and an oversized coat. Tilly stood there, a single lavender rose in one hand, a lopsided grin on her face. None of this could be real, it had to be a dream.

"T-Tilly?" Ivy stammered, hopping off from the stool. 

"I sure hope so." Tilly muttered dejectedly.

The golden-haired girl had spent a few minutes observing Ivy's nonchalant interactions with Henry Mills, the self-published writer who had recently started loitering around the neighborhood. He was an attractive man. Jealousy festered within Tilly's stomach, she was too late, Ivy had moved on.

Shuffling her feet, Tilly ducked her head sheepishly. She shrugged her shoulders, reluctant to assess Ivy's face and discover rejection gleaming across the brunette's eyes.

"I came here to apologize, about the things that I said the other day..." Tilly mumbled, staring at the ground, "But if I'm interrupting your evening with that bloke then- Oomph."

Ivy tackled the young woman, interrupting the blonde's ramblings with a bone-crushing hug. Fingers clenching the fabric of Tilly's weathered shirt, Ivy burrowed her face into the nape of the taller girl's neck. Golden tresses emitting the aroma of freshly harvested oranges, Ivy felt a wave of tranquility wash over her. 

The atmosphere seemed brighter now, it was almost as if the brunette's surroundings had been filtered in black and white, monochromatic until Tilly returned her colors. Ivy didn't want to stop embracing the young woman, afraid that Tilly might just be a mirage, a mischievous ghost summoned on Halloween to taunt her.

Fumbling to conserve her grip on the flower, Tilly had to steady both legs when Ivy's body crashed into her own. The raven-haired girl's arms latched around her neck tightly, refusing to let Tilly go, and possibly impairing the blonde's ability to breath.

Pressing her ear against the top of Tilly's breast, Ivy monitored a rhythmic pulse. She nuzzled against Tilly's collarbone, feeling the blonde's hands press against her waist. A phantom wouldn't be able to hold the dark-haired girl, she felt secure enough to loosen her grip on Tilly's clothes. 

Slowly beginning to pull back, the brunette's hands slid down to tug the lapels of Tilly's red flannel shirt. Biting her lower lip nervously, Ivy gazed up at the young woman.

Releasing a morose sigh, the blonde looked at Ivy apologetically. Tilly felt ashamed, regretting the baseless accusations that she had unleashed on the other girl. Truth be told, Ivy deserved so much better than her. Tilly should be grateful for every second that she was permitted to stand in Ivy's presence.

"I'm so sorry-"

A finger pressed against Tilly's lips briefly, silencing the unnecessary admission of guilt. Ivy was just glad to have the golden-haired girl back by her side. 

"It doesn't matter. I've missed you so much, Tilly." Ivy murmured softly. 

As she fiddled on a button of Tilly's blouse with her thumb, Ivy couldn't stop smiling. She was acting like a schoolgirl with a crush, both cheeks blushing, batting her eyelids.

"And I've missed you, Ivy." Tilly grinned, "Here, I got you this. Happy Birthday."

"It's not my birthday." Ivy smirked, thrilled to find herself reciting the usual phrase, "It isn't in October."

"Well, there's always November." Tilly chuckled.

Being presented with a purple-tinted rose, Ivy giggled exasperatedly, accepting the flower. As the brunette started to carefully store the fragile plant inside the handbag, a small onyx figurine that had been attached to the rose's stem fell into her palm.

A chess piece, the black queen. Ivy's throat constricted with emotion, finger coiling around the tiny statue. Fighting back tears, the raven-haired girl stared at Tilly, nostalgia engulfing her thoughts. Benevolent remnants of Alice still echoed inside the blonde's mind.

"Let me walk you home." Tilly offered with apprehension, "Or do you want that _subpar_ author to escort you instead?"

A teasing remark, Tilly tried to mask her envy behind a playful joke. Ivy was free to date whoever she wanted. The blonde knew that she had no right to make spiteful inquiries, and yet, witnessing Henry abandon Ivy at the bar, it provoked a pettiness within her.

Tilly simply hated how callously the brown-haired man had treated Ivy. The brunette was worthy of a person that would at least try to converse with her, someone who genuinely cared enough for Ivy to break through the prudish girl's icy exterior. 

"How about you take me to your home? And I'll explain everything there." Ivy proposed, reaching for Tilly's hand. 

"M-My home?" Tilly scratched her head, "Are you sure? I mean, you can probably imagine, I live in a barely habitable residence."

"I don't care, Tilly." Ivy stated reassuringly, "I just want to be with you tonight. Please?"

The raven-haired girl had a tender expression on her face, auburn irises shining with utter sincerity. It was impossible for Tilly to deny such an earnest request. Giving Ivy's hand a squeeze, she led the brunette out of the establishment, exiting through the front doors and gallivanting into the deserted streets.

A large half-crescent moon sat on top of the glittery black sky, in the center of landscape, brimming with silvery stars. A magnificent sight, but Tilly's attention was directed toward Ivy. No celestial body or astronomical phenomenon could compare itself to one of the brunette's smiles, a display of pristine white-teeth. So radiant and luminous, Tilly swore that the shadows on the sidewalk had fled back into the deep corners of the adjacent alleyways.

Strolling down a paved boulevard, Ivy pressed her head against the taller girl's arm. A tingling sensation went down Tilly's spine, her heart responded with accelerated palpitations, a pleasant ache that the blonde was able to identify as the hazardous byproduct of being in love. 

Both young woman reflected on everything that had transpired, each haunted by a different set of torments and afflictions. A perfidious path that had filled their kindred spirits with lamentation, the entire ordeal now functioned as a therapeutic chain of events. Neither girl would ever take the other one for granted again, since a sole fact became unremittingly evident, when they were together, Tilly and Ivy never felt alone.


	38. Heinous Shadows

Chapter 38

Heinous Shadows

* * *

 

Fractured bits of porcelain and enamel fragments littered the grass, a burial ground for the ceramic carcasses of teacups, small pots, and thin platters. Large wooden splinters and fluffy fibers of cotton fillings, indicating the irremediable damage that had been inflicted on what used to be luxurious, cushioned chairs. Edible portions of cake and a few cookies laid on the mahogany table, unaffected by the constraints of time and immune to the concept of food spoilage.

All the joyous moments spent in the dining room, replaced by a single gory recollection, the brutal death of Alice's friends. An unforgettable tragedy, but the worst part was that the blonde still enjoyed lounging in the sunny terrace, surrounded by the ghosts of everyone who used to reside there. It continued to be her favorite place in Wonderland, even if insistent phantoms whispered nonsense into Alice's ear, warping the fragile constitution of her mind.

Attempting to fix an irreparable mess, Alice began retrieving the scraps of debris and trash, pointless gestures to mend the wreckage. She tried to make the dining room appear more hospitable, and less like a battlefield. Aligning the surface of the table with the long napery, stains and blotches of unidentifiable fluids were smeared across the fabric.

After finishing her futile repairs, Alice sat at the head of table, flouncing her body on the sturdiest chair. The blonde's thoughts lingered on Killian, if the dark-haired man had been permanently injured by her reckless behavior. She slumped against the four-legged contraption and ruminated on her embedded sense of remorse.

For most of her life, Killian Jones had been his daughter's entire universe, the blonde's very existence revolved around him. Alice worshipped her father, the only parent that she cared for. Having grown up in a tower, isolated from the world, the golden-haired girl became highly dependent on Killian's affection.

The blue-eyed man never spoke about Alice's mother, but even as a young child, she could deduce that his affair with the mysterious woman had a sinister back-story. As the blonde grew older, she discovered that Killian had been deceived by a witch, the vile fiend who ended up giving birth to Alice. 

The details were murky, but in order for the evil woman to escape the tower's magical imprisonment, she had to leave behind a person with her bloodline. Alice was the witch's contingency plan. Despite the abhorrent undertones, the tale of her origin never bothered the golden-haired girl. She had her father's love, and that should have always sufficed.

The problem was that Alice yearned for more. Maybe the real reason why she wanted to break the curse impeding Killian from coming into contact with her had been because the golden-haired girl felt unbearably lonely. Indulging her desire for companionship had almost cost Killian his life.

Plagued by despondent guilt, Alice considered the option of staying in Wonderland forever; she needed to create distance between her and Killian. In view of the bewitched man's affliction, both father and daughter were essentially dead to one another. Unable to provide the warmth of a comforting touch or a tender caress, Alice and Killian might as well reside in different realms; their separation was immeasurable and everlasting.

A sudden creaking noise, the tentative thud of a footstep. Someone had followed Alice into Wonderland. The brazen interloper managed to navigate through the Infinite Maze, the treacherous labyrinth, and was now opening the door, to enter the dining room.

Twirling around on her chair, Alice came face to face with Ella, one of her father's loyal friends. Brown eyes widening in shock, the daring heroine glanced at the tarnished facility.

"My papa, is he okay?" Alice asked nervously.

"Alice." Ella acknowledged the girl's presence.

"I didn't mean to hurt him." Alice began to explain, "I didn't think that-"

"No, h-he's in good hands." Ella interjected, walking toward the blonde, "He's gonna be fine."

"You don't know that. You can't. I better stay here. Oh!" Alice stood up abruptly, her attention diverted to the shattered pots, "Would you like a cup of tea?" 

Observing the blonde's quirky mannerisms and erratic behavior, Ella noticed that Alice wasn't in a clear state of mind. A well-intentioned observation, the dark-haired woman would never judge another person's harmless flaws. Although her actions were often misguided, Alice exhibited a sort of innocence that became impossible to dislike.

Ella inspected the huge table, surveying the extensive destruction. A familiar trinket came into focus; she had not expected to find her mother's necklace hanging over a teapot. Ella's hand reached out to retrieve Cecelia's unique item of jewelry.

"Where did you get _this_?" Ella inquired.

"Give that back." Alice snapped, making a motion for the chain, "That's not yours."

Alice grabbed the brunette's wrist, her cerulean irises flashing with a glint of aggression. She was highly protective of Cecelia's necklace. It reminded the golden-haired girl of all the laughter and enjoyment that she had shared with the older woman.

"It's my mother's." Ella shrugged off the other girl's grasp.

Alice's combative disposition vanished, replaced with a look of recognition. The blonde was awful at processing names. She hadn't connected this Ella with Cecelia's daughter, even if both were called the same. 

"Oh, you're _that_ Ella." Alice pointed at Ella, clarifying the discovery, "You're Cecelia's Ella?"

"You know my mother?" Ella's eyes sparkled with excitement. 

"Oh, yes." Alice smirked proudly, as if knowing Cecelia was some great accomplishment. 

"Do you know where I could find her? I have some questions, starting with why she never came back." Ella rambled on, her tone reverberated with bitter resentment.

"Oh." Alice's face grew somber, " _That_."

The blonde plopped down on a chair, fixating her gaze on a slice of cake. She poked at the wedge with a fork, flattening out the frosting against the confectionery slab. Cecelia's death was never easy to speak of, and it would be especially difficult to divulge the story to her daughter.

"What?" Ella took a seat in front of Alice, "What do you know?"

"It was just another tea party, and then the Jabberwock attacked us." Alice stated grimly, "Your mother fought valiantly, and in the end, I slayed it. But I was the only one that survived."

"My mother is dead?" Ella remained stoic.

"I'm _so_ sorry." Alice offered sincere condolences.

"You don't have to be sorry." Ella's tone was cold, but her irises glistened with unshed tears, "That woman left her family for a tea party. She doesn't deserve any tears."

"You think that's why she came into the Infinite Maze?" Alice was filled with indignation.

"Why else would she?" Ella quipped.

Placing an arm on the table, Alice slid up her sleeve. She revealed the mark engraved across her wrist, a black jagged laceration shaped like a swirl.

"Look familiar?" Alice chirped.

"Yeah, my father had a mark like that." Ella hopped off from the chair, leaning over the table, her hand reaching out for Alice's wrist, "What is it?"

The blonde pulled back her arm, standing up and moving away from Ella. Touching the mark usually induced a painful, burning tingle. Drizella's caresses had been an exception, for some unfathomable reason. Alice just assumed that the pretty sorceress knew how to properly handle an enchanted lesion.

"It's part of the Curse of the Poisoned Heart." Alice elaborated, "It appears when you're touched by the one you can't be with."

Walking around the table and sauntering toward brunette, Alice watched as Ella processed the information. The pieces of puzzle were all locked in place, the mystery of Cecelia's disappearance was resolved.

A realization dawned upon Ella. She finally understood why her mother had left. Cecelia never stopped loving her, or Marcus, the woman wanted to keep them both safe. Ella's eyes swelled up, she pressed the necklace to her chest, fingers fiddling with its chain.

"But if, if my father had the same mark, my mother's heart was poisoned, too. She never stopped loving us." Ella mumbled sadly, "She left to protect us."

"Trust me, if your touch could kill the one you love, you'd want to be lost, too." Alice muttered wistfully.

"But if you knew that getting near Hook would kill him, then why would you risk it?" Ella sounded confused.

The young woman's face lit up, a lopsided grin spreading across her face, remembering the adventure that she had shared with a certain raven-haired girl. Trekking through the forest, fighting off a ferocious wolf, sleeping on the same bed. Both of them had embarked on an epic quest together, similar to the ones found in the fictional stories that Alice's father would read to her when she was a child. 

"I met a pretty sorceress." Alice smirked suggestively, "She said she could cure us, but it clearly didn't take."

A benevolent enchantress, searching for a poisonous mushroom to concoct a healing potion. She promised to do her best to dispel the curse tormenting Alice and Killian, but the brunette's efforts had apparently not been enough.

"This sorceress, what was her name?" Ella frowned. 

"She had a funny name..." Alice trailed off.

Long, ebony stresses, cascading down her back, framing an exquisitely sculpted figure. Plump lips that were molded in such a convenient fashion, apted to fit within Alice's mouth. A pair of auburn irises, shining with an inconceivable amount of loneliness. Using her memories as sole reference, Alice could draw the beautiful girl, from head to toe. She would be qualified to outline every single detail of the brunette's jawline, the thick curve of both eyebrows, the shape of her chin. Despite the young woman's image being so vividly imprinted in Alice's mind, she simply wasn't able to recall her name.

"Dru? Dra? Driz?" Alice listed the syllables that sounded accurate, "What was it?"

"Drizella." Ella sneered.

"Yes, that's her name!" Alice nodded gleefully.

Chocolate-brown eyes darkened to shade of nearly black, simmering with pure disdain. Ella's face contorted, nostrils flaring up in anger. She gritted her teeth before speaking.

"Drizella tricked you on purpose. She never wanted to cure your father. This has all been an elaborate ruse." Ella growled, "Drizella is a spiteful and vindictive brat. She would never go out of her way to help someone else."

Alice looked crestfallen, mouth shifting from a bright smile to a solemn grimace, her head shaking in denial. It couldn't be true, Ella must have mistaken Drizella for another person. Admittedly, the pretty sorceress had been a bit prickly and cold when Alice first met her, but after a while, the raven-haired girl's icy demeanor melted away. Drizella exposed a kind and vulnerable interior core, the gentle side that Alice had grown to care for.

"You must be confused, the Drizella that I know was compassionate and generous." Alice took a step toward Ella, challenging the older woman's accusations.

"Alice, listen to me. Drizella is Lady Tremaine's daughter. She led her own fiancé into a trap, and murdered him ruthlessly." Ella placed both hands on Alice's shoulders, "Drizella is a master at deception, but don't be fooled. Nothing inside of her is worthy of redeeming."

Lady Tremaine's daughter. Some things made more sense now. Drizella had been at the royal ball, dancing with the youngest prince. Foraging for a toxic mushroom, an ingredient for nefarious curses. The slivers of insight were culminating together, creating a logical narrative. The villain had cruelly tricked the blonde into guiding her toward a weapon that she could use against the heroes, Ella and Henry were in danger because of Alice's naivety. She felt like the punchline of an unfunny joke, or a fished gutted by a knife. 

Chest rising up and down, biting her lower lip, Alice knew that she needed to aid Ella in her endeavors to stop Drizella. It was the golden-haired girl's own fault that the malevolent young woman now had the power to hurt the righteous protagonists. In every novel that Alice had read, this instant was the climax, the point of highest tension and drama, the time when the action starts and during which the solution is given.

A rational decision, Alice's heart throbbed, the crippled organ begged the blonde to reevaluate the situation, survey the circumstances, hoping for a slim chance, to give Drizella the benefit of the doubt. Alice ached for an opportunity to cross paths with the dark-haired girl again. She yearned to gaze upon those sad brown eyes and see for herself, if only heinous shadows resided within. Against all sensible judgment, Alice truly believed that she could cast a light on the darkness weighing heavily on Drizella's soul.


	39. Ardent Proclamations

Chapter 39

Ardent Proclamations

* * *

 

A durable steel box, officially known as an intermodal transport container, but it was essentially just six panels that formed a large encasement. Iron shelves were pushed against a wall, holding a wide variety of expired food cans. Some sealed oil barrels laid to the side, improvising in the place of real furniture.

The faint glow of a small lamp illuminated the compartment, a short table stood in the back. An accumulation of blankets and woolen sheets, serving as a surrogate bed, complemented by a couple of mismatching pillows and cushions. An overall depressing setting, Tilly wondered why Ivy wanted to come here.

A typical dwelling for a homeless person, Tilly's residence was everything that Ivy had expected it to be, but that didn't lessen the ache in the brunette's heart. Living at an abandoned train carrier, collecting belongings from piles of discarded garbage, the golden-haired girl deserved better than. Deep within her soul, the young woman knew that all of Tilly's hardships were her fault. Ivy had created this purgatory.

An uncomfortable quietude fell between them, as each young woman's mind brooded over a different topic. Tilly tormented herself with thoughts of Henry Mills, how little of a competition she was to him. An attractive young man, moderately prosperous as a self-published author, sustaining a steady income, having been formally educated. On the other side, Tilly, a mentally unstable vagabond, who had almost killed a police officer. The balance tipped in Henry's favor, no further comparisons were required.

As the brunette assessed the metallic enclosing, Tilly stood at the entrance, tapping her feet and staring at the floor. Although Detective Weaver's blood had been wiped clean and the fragments of teacup were swept away, the ground still seemed dirty. Symbolizing that no matter how much Tilly tried to hide the afflicting condition, the damage to her psyche remained buried under a thin veil of pharmaceutical medicine. Including Tilly herself, nothing in this dismal abode was good enough for Ivy Belfrey.

"Ivy." Tilly broke the silence, "Are _sure_ that you don't want to go somewhere else?"

"No, no, no. This place is..." Ivy paused, turning toward the blonde, "Quite nice."

For such a proficient manipulator, Drizella could often be incapable of uttering a credible lie. Apprehension was clearly written on her face as she allowed her eyes to anxiously roam the questionable environment.

"This _place_ is a crummy abandoned shipping container." Tilly giggled, scratching her head sheepishly, "It's not too late. I can still take you home?"

With a confident smirk, Ivy took off her black leather jacket. She tossed it on the corner of a shelf, beside a scruffy denim blazer. The apparatus served as a coat rack, its structure consisted of pipes that could be used as hooks.

" _Or_ , I can make myself at home." Ivy quipped.

Spotting a plastic crate, Ivy attempted to lower herself on top of its porous surface. The brunette's skirt made it hard for her to sit down. She adjusted the fabric, trying to bend her knees without tearing the garment.

"Well, if you insist." Tilly grinned, watching as Ivy positioned herself on the makeshift chair.

If Tilly were going to concede with Ivy's wishes, she might as well behave like a courteous host. Lifting the lid off from a cask, the blonde pulled out two bottles of an orange carbonated beverage. Refilled with ice cubes from time to time, the oil barrel had been ingeniously repurposed as a cooler for items that needed refrigeration.

"Do you want one?" Tilly offered.

The blonde took a seat in front of Ivy, flouncing down on a flipped bucket. She procured a wrench, utilizing the tool as a bottle opener. The bubbling noise of fizz, a scent of oranges filled the air. Since the blue-eyed girl was frequently stuck inside this confined space, the smell probably latched itself onto Tilly, giving her the unique fragrance that Ivy had grown to adore.

"Sure." Ivy nodded eagerly, "A soft drink with copious amounts of sugar, how typical of you."

A soft drink is a beverage that typically contains carbonated water, a sweetener, artificial flavorings, high-fructose corn syrup, fruit juices, caffeine, colorings, and preservatives. Ivy missed this, being presented with some random, edible concoction of Tilly's choosing. The blonde had acquired an unhealthy obsession with detrimental food.

"Not quite like the fancy stuff that Henry bought for you, eh?" Tilly released a wry laugh.

Ivy knew enough about misery to recognize the pain in Tilly's voice. It was incredibly misguided, and rather a bit nostalgic, for the blonde to be jealous of Henry Mills. An unfortunate plight of irony, the golden-haired girl couldn't recall that she was the one who often broke Ivy's heart.

"Henry Mills is an author, but he also has experience as a journalist. I asked him to write an article about some of my mother's illicit financial activities." Ivy explained, "He is going to help me expose my mother's crimes."

Leaning over to retrieve the bottle in Tilly's extended hand, Ivy's lithe fingers grazed against the other girl's tense knuckles during the exchange. The brushing of their skin, a warm sensation rippled through both young women.

"I am going to finally stop Victoria Belfrey, I promise. The Community Gardens, all the foreclosures, everything that she's done, will be undone. I swear." Ivy threaded a firm web of beautiful lies, interlaced with a single inarguable truth, "I want to make you proud of me, Tilly."

Those two auburn irises were drenched in such sheer passion, emitting a light that Tilly felt that she could trust. A complacent grin invaded the blonde's face, a desire to believe Ivy's vehement declaration breached her heart. The raven-haired girl's words were laced with conviction, a fact that Tilly wouldn't dare challenge.

"I hope that you manage to stand up to Victoria, I really do. But truth be told, I'm already proud of you, Ivy." Tilly replied sincerely.

As if to validate the authenticity of the brunette's ardent proclamations, Tilly tapped her bottle against Ivy's own, a ringing clink echoed loudly. A silly gesture, but it didn't fail to elicit a brief giggle from Ivy. The golden-haired girl always knew exactly what to say, quenching all of Ivy's self-doubts and insecurities.

"Cheers!" Tilly chirped. 

Tucking a stray raven curl behind her ear, Ivy smiled back warmly, bringing the glass nozzle up to her lips. She sipped the orange fluid, relishing the refreshing sizzle against her throat. The young women enjoyed the pleasant lull in the conversation, until both of their bottles became empty.

It was late, long past midnight, but Ivy refused to let her time with Tilly come to an end. The brunette didn't want to return to her hollow and cold residence, to lock herself within a gilded cage that had been disguised as a luxurious apartment.

Eyes wandering across the narrow room, Ivy turned her attention toward the pallet resting against the floor. The wooden contraption substituted for a nightstand, sparse pieces of papers scattered on its surface. Sketches, a set of drawings. Pencils, overused to the pointed that the writing tools had been reduced to stubs. 

Reaching down, Ivy's fingertips traced the markings on one of the sheets. A sunset on the beach, a panorama of tall edifices, a range of snowcapped mountains. Most of the images depicted landscapes, both man-made and natural. With a graceful motion, Ivy shifted from the crate onto the ground, kneeling to obtain a better view of the sketches.

"These are beautiful, Tilly." Ivy stated with genuine admiration.

"An _actual_ compliment from Ivy Belfrey? I can die happy now." Tilly teased, crawling down next to Ivy.

Scoffing with mock indignation, the raven-haired girl pressed one hand against her chest, pretending to be offended by Tilly's joke. Ivy softly poked the blonde's stomach with her elbow, eliciting a dramatic yelp from Tilly. The two young women burst into a fit of giggles, chuckling in amusement. 

Continuing her individual appraisal of each artistic composition, Ivy scanned for precise strokes, studying the sharp curves where the pencil indented an emphasized line. The details shown in every single one of the renderings were as realistic and defined as those seen on photographs captured by modern cameras.

Tilly scooted behind the raven-haired girl, perched on the border of the meager cot. She crossed her legs, patiently observing as Ivy browsed through her collection of _artwork_ , for lack of a better term. Tilly grinned, taking pride in how much Ivy revered the simple doodles.

"All joking aside, these are wonderful." Ivy hummed with esteem, "What inspires you to draw these?"

"Just random stuff that I see in my dreams." Tilly divulged, "My mind is hazy, but my dreams are often clear."

"Extremely vivid dreams, from the looks of it." Ivy chimed in.

As her hands spread out the illustrations, Ivy caught a glimpse of a particularly different one. Instead of plain grey shading, this drawing had been painted with colors, a polychromatic range of iridescent tones.

The portrait of gorgeous young woman, Ivy's fingers curled around the sheet's edge. Dark yellow, the stresses of hair were long and straight, framing two large green irises that resembled emerald stones. It took all of Ivy's self-control to prevent herself from ripping the parchment to shreds. Robin, beautiful, heroic, compassionate, the perfect girl that Ivy could never hope to replace.

Digging her thumb into the picture, the paper started to wrinkle under Ivy's tight hold. Developing moisture in her eyes, the brunette resisted the urge to cry. Her heart throbbed, pulse quickening as she glared at the haunting effigy, the memory of a ghost, coming back to punish Ivy.

"Hey..." Tilly cooed into Ivy's ear, "What's wrong?"

Tilly slithered an arm around Ivy's waist, pulling the smaller girl into a gentle hug. Her other hand went for the brunette's wrist, tugging the portrait out of Ivy's grasp. Tilly had no idea what had perturbed her companion so suddenly, but she could feel Ivy's body tremble against her chest.

With a sniffle, the young woman's eyelids fluttered, struggling against glistening tears. Ivy couldn't allow Robin's phantasmal presence to agitate her. Head slowly turning toward Tilly, the raven-haired girl bit her lower lip.

"You see _this_ girl-" Ivy pointed at the image, steeling her composure, "In your dreams?"

Tilly blinked incredulously, unable to decipher if the other girl was asking a question or making an accusation. A preposterous idea, but the blonde began to suspect that Ivy might be envious of the two-dimensional caricature.

"I m-mean, she must have made quite an impression, for you to draw h-her." Ivy's voice cracked.

The nervous stutter in the brunette's statement, Tilly's ludicrous theory had been proven correct. The alcohol in Ivy's digestive system must be causing a delayed reaction, since there was no other logical explanation for the resentment that the brunette felt toward a poorly drawn sketch.  

"You must be drunk, because being jealous of a drawing is the most ridiculous that I've ever heard." Tilly giggled, shaking her head from side to side, "And I sometimes hear voices inside my head. But, if it makes you feel better-"

As if the glossy sheet of craftsmanship meant nothing, Tilly crumbled up the picture in her hands, compressing it into a spherical bundle. She launched the mangled paper across the compartment, a significant distance away from them. Behind a few crates, a faint thud resonated against the container walls. 

"You didn't have to do that." Ivy muttered, embarrassed by her immature behavior. 

Cupping the young woman's cheek, Tilly caressed Ivy's face. She slid her palm along the smaller girl's jawline, knuckles converging to push up Ivy's chin. Tilly forced the brunette to look at her, staring directly into the pair of distressed brown eyes. 

"You're the girl of my dreams, Ivy." Tilly murmured lovingly.

"Do you really mean that?" Ivy whispered, sounding more desperate than she should.

"Yes." Tilly's cerulean irises gleamed with honesty.

Exhaling a forlorn sigh, Ivy conceded a smile. Tilly's romantic gesture warranted a kiss that the brunette couldn't grant. Her emotional exhaustion had converted to physical fatigue. She was so tired, a thousand troublesome thoughts swirling around inside her mind. 

Ivy had an infinite list of tasks to complete, pieces to move into place, a specific sequence of steps, all leading up to a masterfully tailored happy ending, that consisted of Tilly staying by her side. _The end justifies the means._ None of Ivy's duplicitous actions held any worth if she couldn't find a way to be with the golden-haired girl.

"Can I stay here for the night?" Ivy mumbled under her breath.

Slumping against the blonde's shoulder, Ivy let out a yawn. She shuffled closer to Tilly, joining the other girl on top of the undersized mattress. Her eyelids were growing heavy, hand clenching the lapel of Tilly's red flannel shirt. 

"Of course, Ivy." Tilly reassured.

Vision fading out of focus, engulfed in blackness as she fell backward, but she didn't strike the floor. An arm wrapped around her waist tightly, preventing her from hitting the ground. The brunette was graciously held upright. Her fingers clutched the neckline of Tilly's top, swaying against the taller girl's body.

"I'm so sleepy." Ivy huffed in a grumpy manner, "Help me out of my stupid clothes."

A chuckle escaped Tilly's parted lips. She grabbed Ivy's wrists, detaching her blouse from the raven-haired girl's grip. With a couple of patient nudges, Tilly laid the young woman down onto the mattress. Ivy attempted to kick off her heels, but groggy stupor had rendered the brunette uncharacteristically clumsy. Ivy's legs flailed around, making it difficult for Tilly to assist her.

"I got you, Ivy. Just stop moving." Tilly ordered politely.

"Hm." Ivy grunted, falling in and out of consciousness.

Tilly bowed down, removing each stiletto and unzipping Ivy's skirt. She slid down the checkered fabric along the length of the brown-eyed girl's figure, pooling at the ankles. The blonde yanked the garment off, revealing Ivy's lacey underwear. Without her leather jacket, Ivy had a sole flimsy black blouse on.

Diverting her gaze away, Tilly chivalrously draped a blanket over Ivy's scantily clad body. The brunette's eyes were closed, but her arm was patting around the shoddy bed, searching for Tilly.

"I'm cold." Ivy groaned, tossing and turning on the mattress.

"Should I call Henry over?" Tilly jested as she settled next to Ivy.

"You're being mean." Ivy whimpered childishly as she snuggled into the blonde's side, "But you're warm."

"And you're delirious." Tilly smirked, throwing an arm over Ivy's waist, "Goodnight, Ivy."

"Hm." Ivy responded curtly, worn out from tiredness.

Pressing her ear against Tilly's chest, Ivy listened to the blonde’s heartbeat for several long minutes. The harmonious rhythm that Ivy found there soothed her weary spirit, creating a hypnotizing melody, a tune synchronizing to Tilly's pulse.

A hand entangled within a web of ebony curls, fingers combing through the unruly strands and gently massaging Ivy's scalp, Tilly's ministrations successfully transformed the thin line of the young woman's lips into a content smile. When the brunette's breathing steadied and sleep overcame her, Tilly clicked off the lamp on the shelf, permitting a peaceful darkness to envelope the compartment.

Tilly grabbed some more sparse pieces of cloth, using them as bedsheets. She covered the shivering raven-haired girl and herself with the woolen quilts. An involuntary blush invaded the blonde's cheeks when Ivy's bare legs huddled over her own, basically straddling Tilly's thigh. 

Staring at the metal panel functioning as the ceiling of her residence, Tilly's heart palpitated, thinking about how the young woman that she loved was cuddling against her, half-naked and irresistibly gorgeous. The blonde ruminated on the current predicament, an unimaginable scenario. Tilly found herself trapped in a sensually intimate position, where she couldn't initiate any satisfying activities other than just sleep.

The moment when Ivy draped an arm across the golden-haired girl's abdomen, all frustrations and lewd musings melted away. She nuzzled against Tilly's neck, nose tickling the blonde's sensitive skin, a tender reminder that their feelings for each other ran deep, transcending a mere sexual encounter.

Adjusting to Ivy's embrace, Tilly tucked the young woman's head under her chin. She rubbed calming circles around the smaller girl's back, relaxing a knot of sore muscles. Grumbling adorably in her slumber, Ivy yearned for a loving comfort that only Tilly could provide. Staying true to her sentiments, the blonde vowed to permanently alleviate the turmoil rummaging through Ivy's soul, even if took a lifetime of platonic touches and an unyielding resolve of patience. 


	40. Pending Affairs

Chapter 40

Pending Affairs

* * *

 

The deepest confines of hell are said to be reserved for traitors. The infernal purgatory's most profound corners are devoted to one of the greatest sins that a person can commit. Treachery, by standard definition, is violating a vow of confidence, an act which produces moral and psychological conflict within a relationship amongst two or more individuals. It is hard to mandate what constitutes as a betrayal, perhaps deception falls under a different category.

Betrayal or deception, the pain in Alice's chest felt the same, regardless of which label was assigned to describe the sentiment. She had undoubtedly trusted Drizella, without a single second of hesitation. A part of the blonde refused to believe Ella's accusations, clinging on to the fictitious hope that this could all just be some huge misunderstanding. 

Take a turn left, trudge on forward, pivot toward the right. The Infinite Maze was a twisted, unwinding road, full of dead-ends and long routes. Ella and Alice made their way through the labyrinth, scurrying across the converging passages. 

A sudden gasp, Ella gripped at her mother's necklace. The pendant was glowing, with a bright white shine. The brunette's face reddened, as if the jewelry's odd behavior had embarrassed her somehow.

"When my mother married Marcus Tremaine, she gave him a set of matching lockets. They were enchanted to glow, so they would always find each other, just as their hearts would..." Ella explained, glancing at Alice, "I have this one, and Henry is holding the one that belonged to my stepfather."

Understanding flashed across the blonde's face. True love. In spite of the torment simmering inside Alice's soul, she was happy for the older girl. A monumental accomplishment that most people never achieve even after dedicating a lifetime to the search, Ella had found her soulmate, Henry Mills.

"Let's go save Henry then." Alice chirped, forcing her mouth to contort into a sincere grin.

With a nod of her head, Ella returned the smile. She began sprinting toward the exit of the maze, Alice trailing alongside her. Sauntering into a glade clearing, tall thick stems and red caps, arriving at the garden of giant mushrooms.

As the golden-haired girl followed Ella toward the meadow where Henry should have been waiting, a male voice cried out. Ella grabbed Alice's wrist, pulling her behind the cover of some wide hedges. Through the gaps in the leaves, both young women watched a scene unfold before them.

"What are you doing in Wonderland?" Henry addressed a familiar raven-haired girl angrily.

The brown-haired man stood frozen in place, a spell that Alice had witnessed in the past. Drizella had utilized the enchantment to paralyze a monstrous wolf that was about to strike the blue-eyed girl. An evil witch who protected people from bloodthirsty creatures? Nothing made sense to Alice, even less so than usual. Why did the brunette save her life? Was it just to obtain the mushroom?

"Oh, I'm the reason we're all here." Drizella sneered, "Tricked Alice into guiding us down one of her little bunny holes."

A pang to her chest, Alice's name had never been uttered in such a despicable fashion. Drizella diction conveyed apathy and disinterest, it became evident to Alice that the dark-haired sorceress didn't care about her. _Tricked Alice into guiding us down one of her little bunny holes._ The phrase echoed inside the blonde's head, the whisperings of a vindictive subconscious, punishing Alice for her naivety.

"Why would you do that?" Henry struggled against Drizella's magical grasp, unable to regain movement .

"Because Wonderland has so many different poisons to choose from My favorite? The one that can poison hearts." Drizella smirked, tapping the left side of Henry's chest with her finger, "Specifically yours."

The screeching sound of metal grinding against fabric, Alice's head spun to the side, watching as Ella clutched the handle of her sword, beginning to draw out the blade. The brunette's nostrils flared up, a dangerous glint flickered in her auburn eyes.

Despite the severity of Drizella's transgressions, the blonde didn't want to see her get hurt. The mere notion of Ella using the razor-sharp weapon to strike down the raven-haired girl was nauseating. Alice had to act quickly. 

"Ella, wait." Alice pleaded, "I have a plan."

Alice coiled her fingers around Ella's wrist, preventing the other girl from unsheathing the saber. With a defiant grunt, Ella shrugged off Alice's arm.

"So do I." Ella growled, "I'll cut Drizella in half, and see if that works."

"We don't need any more bloodshed. Please, listen to me." Alice begged, "I have a way of banishing Drizella from this realm, I just need you to distract her while I get into position."

Releasing a reluctant sigh, Ella slid her sword back into its covering. Her murderous rage dissipated, calming down due to the blue-eyed girl's gentility. She gave Alice a nod, accepting the blonde's proposal. 

"Okay, so I have to go this way, and you need to go that way." Alice instructed, gesturing to Ella's designated path.

Both young women headed out in opposite directions, circling around the area where Drizella and Henry were engaging in a heated confrontation. Ella walked toward the deteriorated ruins of a former castle, crouching down as she journeyed through a row of ferns. The blonde quietly slithered along the field, shrouded amongst an array of trees. A necessary stealthy approach, the element of surprise was crucial when it came to Alice's plan. 

"Isn't it pretty? It's so soft, so innocent." Drizella taunted Henry with the mushroom, "Who could guess it could cause so much pain?"

Soft. Innocent. What a strange way of describing a toxic fungus. The words were dripping with subtext, but Alice couldn't decipher the message hidden between the lines. It almost seemed as if Drizella was referring to something else, another entity that had fooled the pretty sorceress.

"Why do you want to poison my heart?" Henry inquired.

"So you and my step-wench can never share true love's kiss." Drizella stated nonchalantly.

Browsing through the portal mirrors that were growing on a tall bush, the golden-haired girl made a suitable selection, plucking out one from the tangled brambles of the unnatural plant. Alice tried to rationalize Drizella's contradictory behavior. The brunette had been kind, playful, and fun. Alice rattled her brain, but the game pieces simply didn't fit. What was the point of an unsolvable puzzle? 

"I hate to ruin your fungus, but it doesn't look like it's going that way, so you can put the knife down." Henry thought his feelings for Ella were one-sided.

Ruminating on her scheme, Alice crept toward a colossal mushroom. She continued to eavesdrop on snippets of Drizella's aggressive conversation with Henry. The young woman remained eager to comprehend Drizella's motives.

"I'm not taking any chances. I'm working on a dark curse, and I learned a bit from your mother's mistakes." Drizella sliced into the mushroom, extracting a drop of its poison, "Those pesky little kisses can break curses."

Climbing up the oversized sprout, Alice stood on top of the crimson cap, provided with a clear view of Drizella and Henry. The blonde's heart thumped against her breastbone, two blue eyes watched Drizella flirtatiously run her fingers across the handsome man's torso. Alice shook her head, this was not the time or the place for unwarranted feelings of jealousy.

"Makes you wonder what could happen once my sister-maid is out of the picture." Drizella murmured seductively.

In an instant, whatever trace of affection that Alice harbored for Drizella, evaporated as the blonde realized the truth. Her pretty sorceress never did exist. Analyzing every moment shared with Drizella, she concluded that it must have all been a bunch of carefully formulated illusions. A web spun by the raven-haired girl to ensnare Henry, the intended target. Alice was only a means to an end for the other young woman. Drizella fervently desired Henry, going as far as to sabotage true love in order to indulge with a frivolous infatuation. 

"How about we never find out?" Ella bellowed out, hopping over a stone ledge.

Lunging at Drizella, the older brunette swung a punch, aimed at her stepsister's face. A resonating thud, Ella's fist collided with the other girl's jaw, afflicting an outstanding blow. Drizella fumbled back, disoriented by the strong hit.

"Alice, do it!" Ella exclaimed.

The awaited signal. Holding a portal mirror in her hands, Alice allowed the sheet to commence a vertical drop, falling over Drizella. The golden-haired girl strengthened her resolve, ignoring the hurt that she noticed in Drizella's eyes as the reflective glass fell on top of her.

"Have a nice trip home!" Alice watched as Drizella braced herself for impact.

The portal mirror swooshed as it landed on the ground, transporting the brunette to a sequestered forest, far away from Princess Tiana's campsite. The freezing hex that the young sorceress had casted on Henry was dispelled, restoring the man's mobility.

"Henry!" Ella rushed to Henry's side, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders.

"I didn't think you'd find me again." Henry muttered.

"Neither did I." Ella admitted, "But when I realized you were in danger, this started to glow."

The dark-haired woman revealed Cecelia's locket, lifting it close to the matching pendent that hung on Henry's neck. Both trinkets shined with a radiant luminosity.

"Ella, what does that mean?" Henry stared at the jewelry. 

"It means I'm willing to take a risk, Henry." Ella declared passionately.

Tentatively holding onto Ella's cheek, Henry bowed down, pressing a chaste kiss against the brunette's mouth. An ancient type of magic sparked between them. True love, a formidable source of power.

Ella surged forward, kissing the brown-haired man. Coiling her fingers on the back of Henry's head, Ella's lips moved against her soulmate's mouth, a beautifully cinematic scene. Such a raw emotion flowed through each of them, a sentiment that Alice felt like she might have seen before. 

Unable to discourage nagging thoughts, Alice rested both hands on her hips, trying to take pride in the fact that the strategy she concocted had been a successful. Drizella no longer posed a threat to the heroes, Alice had redeemed herself. She smiled warmly as Ella and Henry kissed. If this were one of Alice's novels, the book cover would close on a wonderful story, where the righteous protagonists emerged victorious from their epic battle with a malevolent antagonist. 

 _Drizella_. Cerulean eyes wandered, glaring at the discarded portal mirror, laying on the dirt floor. Alice's pulse quickened, knowing that she had a difficult decision to make. Ella and Henry might have their happy ending, but the blonde's own fairytale still had several more chapters to go. 

"Hey." Alice cleared her throat, jumping down from the towering mushroom, "Ella? Henry?"

The couple sprang apart, flustered and panting for air. Alice quirked an eyebrow, smiling as she gave Ella and Henry a minute to recompose themselves. A blush invaded the brown-eyed man's cheeks. His female counterpart appeared more poised, Ella puffed her chest out casual, as if she hadn't just been sucking Henry's face.

"A-Alice, sorry. We sort of got carried away..." Henry stuttered, scratching his head sheepishly.

"That's quite alright, it's not every day that a girl gets to witness true love." Alice grinned knowingly, "But I need to ask for a favor."

Taking a step forward, Ella's carefree demeanor was replaced with a sense of determination. Henry's mind still lingered on Alice's words, his face reddening from a combination of mortification and joy.

"What is it?" Ella placed a hand on Alice's shoulder, a comforting gesture.

Biting her lower lip, Alice reached into the pocket of her dress. The blonde couldn't remember where she had left her leather bag, but there was one sole possession that mattered above all the rest. Pulling out her hand, Alice's fingers uncurled to display a small horse figurine.

"Give this to my father." Alice gave Ella the treasured chess piece, "Please. He'll know what it means."

Ella nodded solemnly, sympathizing with the golden-haired girl's unfortunate predicament. Alice smiled sweetly, her expression was full of gratitude. The brunette cradled the alabaster figure, pressing it against her chest. Ella could perceive what the object meant to Alice and Killian. Similar to Cecelia's necklace, the token probably held a similar nostalgic value.

Henry was rather confused, rubbing his chin. Disturbing the silent comradery between Ella and the younger girl, he chimed in with an ingenious proposition.

"Why don't you give it to him yourself? From a distance?" Henry suggested.

It wasn't an absurd idea, if Alice stood far away from Killian, the concept would be feasible. An exchange of longing gazes, father and daughter, breathing in the same air, coexisting for a minute or two. The temptation dangled in front of Alice, beckoning her to reassess the available options.

"I have pending affairs to take care of." Alice declined, a hint of melancholy vibrated in her tone, "Goodbye, Ella. Henry."

With a casual wave of her hand, Alice bid the lovers a polite farewell. Facing Henry and Ella, the blonde theatrically bowed her head, as if she were an actress, exiting the stage. The enigmatic girl spun around on one heel, strolling toward the mirror sprawled across the ground. 

Kneeling down, Alice flipped the thin panel over, its reflective glass gleamed under the sunlight of Wonderland's perpetual daytime. This bizarre world had impaired the young woman's sanity; she often couldn't distinguish the occurrences inside her head from reality. Although Alice's mind was murky, she needed to know if Drizella had ever felt anything genuine for her.

Her heart demanded answers from the dark-haired sorceress. Jumping into the portal, Alice had to hurry if she wanted to locate Drizella. Time always kept ticking away, it was almost too late. Orange marmalade. Nervous smiles. Affectionate touches. One magical kiss. A whirlwind of memories engulfed Alice as she spiraled through the interdimensional vortex. The blonde couldn't give up on Drizella, not before seeing for herself, what truly resided within those two sad brown eyes. 


	41. Broken Fragments

Chapter 41

Broken Fragments

* * *

 

Stars blinked from amongst the vast expanse of hollow blackness, surrounding a large full-moon. The ones furthest away, almost outside the span of human comprehension, were like flashing pinpricks in a wide veil of darkness. Silver asters, glinting and shimmering from a distance, detached from all earthly confines. Each heavenly speck was a beacon of hope, for all the lost souls of the world.

Reflecting their glimmer across an isolated lagoon, the astronomical objects were mirrored onto a thin sheet of the water, white luminous ripples. A pleasant fragrance washed over the forest, the smell of pinecones and blossoming flowers. Chilling air blew against the leaves of the nearby trees, a melodic rustling sound. A haunting ambience, either peacefully serene or unbearably sad, the final ruling was dependent on an individual's perspective.

Staring up at the night sky, Drizella wondered if ghosts were capable of looking down on her. Thoughts lingered on Anastasia, the optimistic girl with chestnut hair and hazel irises, who loved fairytales and valiant heroes. What would Anastasia think about Drizella's actions? How much of a disappointment had she become? The sinister villain of the story, the unfortunate role that Drizella was stuck performing.

Water droplets slid down both cheeks, at some point, in between dwelling on the memory of her dead sister and brooding over the loss of Alice's companionship, Drizella had started crying. The raven-haired girl propped her head back, leaning against the jagged bark of a large willow tree and wrapping both arms around her bended knees.

Tears flowed freely from Drizella's eyes, her throat constricted with emotion. Sobs racking across her body, sending vibrations up the trunk of the erect plant. A flicker of crackling light, too fast to be clearly seen. In synchronized unison, a horde of the fireflies sliced through the crepuscular atmosphere. The buzzing insects resembled the stars, flying out into the sky, camouflaging into a celestial sea of glitter.  

Drizella admired the miniscule creatures, grateful for the momentary reprieve that their illuminating presence had granted her. The brunette inhaled a large breath, exhaling slowly, to calm herself down. Yellow. White. Blue. It was hard to distinguish the fireflies from the stars; a swirling landscape of gems decorated the stratosphere.

"If it weren't for the shadows, we wouldn't be able to appreciate the light." An effervescent voice echoed across the lakeshore, feathery and soothing.

Using a sleeve's cotton cuff, Drizella rubbed off all the moist tears stains on the sides of her face. She turned around, pupils adjusting to concentrate on the figure before her. A familiar golden-haired girl came into focus. Drizella opened her mouth to speak, vocal cords sore and hoarse from the recent crying spells. She croaked out a single name.

"A-Alice?" Drizella uttered, unsure if the blonde was truly standing in front of her.

A pair of cyan irises, displaying a faint glint of playfulness, the signature unruly curls framing Alice's head. If the young woman was a mischievous specter aspiring to torment Drizella, then the taunting spirit's efforts were highly proficient.

Taking a tentative step forward, Alice trudged through the mud and the gravel, dragging her feet as she approached the other girl. The expression on the blonde's face was unreadable, as if she hadn't decided how to properly address Drizella.

Releasing an exasperated sigh, Alice slouched her shoulders forward. Staring at the tranquil lake, she lowered herself down, settling on a flat patch of grass next to the spot where Drizella was seated. The blonde's gaze remained directed at the sky, venerating the scintillating view of radiant spheres.

"I practiced what I was going say to you. Hours and hours of roaming around aimlessly through the forest, I talked to myself the entire time." Alice pointed to the fluttering fireflies, "Suddenly, I catch a glimpse of all these pretty lights, and they led me here, where it only takes a single glance from you to make me forget everything that I had planned on saying."

Awestruck by Alice's heartfelt declarations, Drizella had been rendered speechless. Dark eyes fixated on the blonde's face, studying her from under the scrutiny of the lunar beams. Alice's ivory skin rivaled the stars in beauty, the soft curve of her cheek was even more gorgeous beneath a shower of glimmering moonlight. 

Lost in a trance, analyzing the contours of Alice's jawline, how the golden-haired girl's lips were generating a wistful smile, Drizella suddenly felt an emotion that she couldn't easily identify. Regret crept its way into her soul. Alice cared enough to _search_ for Drizella, and now here she was, sitting beside the quiet brunette, as if nothing awful had transpired between them. 

Legs crossed in a manner that was rather crude for a young lady, Alice picked a flat pebble from off the ground. With a flick of her wrist, she launched the rock across the pond, watching as the circular stone bounced against the water surface in a straight line, hopping a few times before it sunk to the bottom of the lake.

"Hm, five hops. That's a new record for me." Alice quipped casually.

Alice's nonchalant attitude began to infuriate Drizella. The blonde had thrown a large mirror on top of her, without any hesitation, just in order to assist Ella. The same pattern of behavior, everyone always favored Drizella's stepsister, committing altruistic actions on her behalf.

Old resentments blazed within the raven-haired girl. Anastasia had died trying to save Ella, and after all these years, Drizella kept losing the people that she loved to her surrogate sibling's whimsical desires.

"Were you crying because of Henry?" Alice's inquiry pierced through Drizella's hateful thoughts. 

"What? I was not crying." Drizella snarled, "And _if_ I were, it certainly wouldn't have anything to do with Henry Mills."

Dishonesty had become so habitual for the brunette that she even fabricated lies without an intended purpose. Drizella's cheeks were clearly adorned with residual smidges, discrediting her fictitious claims. 

"I _saw_ you flirting with him." Alice emphasized, a hint of sadness in her tone.

"That was nothing, I just-" Drizella rubbed the back of her neck, "My mother taught me how to manipulate men, she said it would make me feel powerful, and confident."

"Your mother doesn't seem like a good person. Tricking and using people doesn't make you strong, Drizella." Alice hung her head in defeat, "You didn't have to use m-me."

Biting her lower lip, Alice fought back the tears pooling around her eyes, forming two azure saucers that resembled glistening puddles of water. She forced herself not to cry, a feat that required a great amount of sheer willpower.

"To be honest, I don't have a lot of friends. Most of them died..." Alice ingested a deep breath, conserving a bit of her composure, "It was fun, b-being with you. And maybe I'm stupid. So stupid and naive for thinking that we were actually b-becoming friends, but none of it felt like a lie to me."

Motivated by an impulse that Drizella couldn't fathom, she shifted closer to Alice, bringing a hand up to the blonde's face. Knuckles curling around the taller girl's chin, using a gentle nudge, Drizella urged Alice to look at her.

"It wasn't all a lie, Alice. We _were_ friends." Drizella nodded, wishing that she could somehow restore Alice's unwavering trust in her.

Closing both eyes, the golden-haired girl shrugged, pulling away from Drizella's grasp. Alice instantly missed the warmth that the brunette's touch had provided, but couldn't put much faith in Drizella's speeches anymore.

"Ella had some upsetting things to say about you..." Alice's statement trailed off, she avoided looking into the other girl's transfixing irises. 

"Nothing that my stepsister says can change how I feel about you!" Drizella snapped, pressing a palm against her left breast, "I may be a monster, but I do care about you, and I won't allow anyone to take that away from me. No one can dictate how I feel."

Gritting her teeth, Drizella's proclamations almost sounded like an animalistic growl. With escalating agitation, the visible area below her neck was reddening. A wrath had swelled up within Drizella, enraged by how Ella's accusations were distorting Alice's opinion of their cherished interactions. 

Perceiving the sincerity buried underneath a thick layer of rage, Alice reached out, prying the brunette's hand away from her chest. Alice uncoiled each of the girl's fingers, as if Drizella's palm held the answers that she desperately sought. Alice decided to ask a couple of brazen inquiries, emboldened by the endearing fact that Drizella had not rejected her ministrations.

"Why are you doing this, Drizella? Why do you want to invoke a dark curse?" Alice murmured softly, afraid of souring the brunette's sedated mood, "You can tell me, and I promise not to judge, even if I don't agree."

Drizella's stomach felt tight, digestive muscles churning with an inexplicable ache. A breeze of cold wind flew around her, causing a shiver to go down the dark-haired girl's spine. Alice's mouth contorted into a serious grimace, genuine concern gleaming across her cerulean irises. Despite the wrongdoings that the brunette had committed, her many misdeeds and every single one of her faults, Alice refused to abandon Drizella. 

Averting Alice's inquisitive gaze, the brown-eyed girl lowered her head. Throughout Drizella's whole life, no one had ever tried to understand her perspective on matters. For all the lies and misconceptions that spiraled around both young women, a lone truth became indisputably evident, Drizella wasn't worthy of Alice's unconditional affection. The blonde didn't have a hidden agenda or any ulterior motives. Alice deserved an honest explanation from Drizella, if nothing else.

"How much do you love your father?" Drizella interlaced Alice's fingers with her own.

"More than anything." Alice replied automatically, unsure of where the conversation was headed.

"So did I." Drizella gave the blonde a cynical smile, "Imagine how I felt, when one day, I find out that my mother conspired with a prince in order to assassinate my father."

"T-That's awful." Alice squeezed Drizella's hand, scooting near the brunette, "But you still have a stepsister and-"

"My real sister died trying to save Ella. I was just a child. Anastasia swore that she loved me more, but nevertheless, when Ella fell into a frozen lake, Anastasia had been trying to help, to warn her about the brittle icy surface. Ella's responsible for that, I lost the one person who ever gave a damn about me because of her." Drizella spat bitterly, "And then later, I lost my only decent parent. I can never forgive my mother for her role in my father's death. I don't care if vengeance destroys me, the cruel woman will pay for _everything_ that she's done, for every atrocious act! I _will_ invoke the dark curse and create a world where I don't have to feel pain anymore!"

With tears streaming down her cheeks, Drizella's head throbbed. She was reluctant to look at Alice, for fear of finding contempt and disdain inside those two sapphire eyes. Drizella's hand rose up to rest upon the chest's left section, feeling her heart’s strange disruption thrumming there. The brunette's lungs struggled to breath, quickly depleting her body of oxygen, blood rushing away from the brain.

As she watched Drizella choking with spiteful words, it was difficult for Alice to survey the emotional damage that had been afflicted on the raven-haired girl. Drizella's soul lied bare, a bunch of broken fragments scattered in front of Alice. Not wasting any more time, the blonde wrapped her arms around Drizella, yearning to alleviate the vulnerable young woman's pain.

With restraints unraveled, the brunette burrowed her face into Alice's golden curls, sobbing incessantly. Venting out her repressed despair, Drizella's shrill cries threatened to awaken the spirits of the dead. 

"I've got you, Drizella." Alice cooed into the dark-haired girl's ear, "Let it all out."

Sweat beaded over Drizella’s forehead as she wept. The humidity within the glade was flustering her complexion. Skin grew hotter, smoldered, Drizella's breathing labored and strained. She clutched the neckline of Alice's dress, nuzzling against the taller girl's collarbone. 

The blonde's hold remained firm, encasing Drizella in a protective embrace. Alice hummed into the shorter girl's ear, muttering compassionate reassurances, and pressing loving pecks against her raven hair.

Drizella leaned back slowly, afraid to glance into the blonde's eyes, terrified of what she might uncover there. When Drizella gathered enough courage to look at Alice, she became alarmed. Two rows of smudges dripped across the blue-eyed girl's face, head cocked to the side, evaluating Drizella in an empathetic manner. Alice was crying for her.

"W-Why are you crying?" Drizella stammered, cupping Alice's cheek.

"Because you're suffering, Drizella." Alice murmured, "And I don't think that cursing everyone in this realm is going to fill the hole in your heart. But I'd give anything to help you."

A sharp intake of air, Drizella's heart pounded against her breastbone. Sniffling loudly through congested nostrils, the brunette's chest swelled with an excitement that she couldn't convey verbally. The implications of Alice's ramblings seemed too good to be true. Their platonic pretenses were melting away, replaced by a raw sentiment that neither girl was able to define.

A blush developed on Drizella's cheeks. She felt the blonde's hands latched onto her waist, the intimacy of the position ignited a warm sensation within the dark-haired girl's abdomen. Drizella chewed on her bottom lip, daring to voice an extremely presumptive notion.

"When you say stuff like that, a girl can get the wrong idea, and she might start to..." Drizella ducked her head bashfully, "Hope."

"Yeah?" Alice's mouth twisted into a lopsided smirk.

"Yeah." Drizella grinned, giving the blonde a slow nod.

"One last question." Alice moved forward at a sluggish pace.

"Yes?" Drizella's breath hitched, acutely aware of how the other girl's face was closing in.

"Why did you kiss me?" Alice whispered, stroking Drizella's hip bone with her thumb.

Already deducting the reason why, Alice just needed the brunette to say the words aloud, to recite them as if they were the bewitching phrases that summoned a liberating incantation. Alice's pulse sped up, but she boldly allocated herself between Drizella's legs, hovering over the smaller girl.

"Because it seemed like my only c-chance to." Drizella confessed, her nerves inducing a brief stutter.

"You were wrong." Alice replied, her pupils had dilated, lips parting slightly.  

Drizella’s breathe quickened, her chest rising and falling unevenly from Alice’s sudden proximity. Heartbeats resonating throughout each of their bodies at a synchronized tempo. Both girls could feel every artery contract, stirring the blood coursing through their veins. 

The temperature skyrocketed as the two breathed into the same space. Alice allowed her lips to fall upon Drizella's mouth, whole body reclining on the brunette. One of Alice's hands slid by its own accord to cup Drizella’s jaw gently, her fingertips trailing along the dark-haired girl's neck.

Inexperienced when it came to the art of kissing, Drizella was unprepared for the pressure being exerted against her mouth's entrance. It took a several seconds for Drizella to grant Alice's tongue with the permission that it wanted. Emitting a whimper, Drizella's free hand gripped the bodice of taller girl's outfit, relishing how good their lips felt, engaged in a heated dance.

An unsolicited moan erupted from Drizella's throat, and for as much as Alice had been enjoying the adorable noises that the young woman made; she had to stop now, before it was too late. Alice attempted to push back from Drizella, but the brunette's arms kept her in place.

"I can't-" Alice lamented, but Drizella's index finger hushed her.

"Just give me one day to convince you to stay with me. Please?" Drizella mumbled, a meager request, dropping her arm, "I'll explain everything, and if you don't agree, then you can leave. No strings attached, no more lies. Deal?"

Her auburn eyes were so full of hope, a concept that had evaded Drizella for far too long. She glared at Alice with such tenderness, pleading for an opportunity to prove herself. The blonde couldn't turn down the proposal. Alice suspected that Drizella had been rejected countless times throughout her life, the golden-haired girl wouldn't increase the heartbreaking quota.

Alice tilted her head slightly, and Drizella saw something flash across the aquamarine irises, indicating that the blonde had ended a controversial inner debate. Instead of an articulate reply, Alice surged in, closing the gap between them, coherent thoughts vanished. As the other girl zealously nibbled on her lower lip, Alice smiled into their kiss. The blonde hadn't expected Drizella to be such a quick learner.

Worries loomed over Alice's mind like a dark, foreboding cloud, Drizella's thirst for revenge was dangerous, an all-consuming flame that would undoubtedly jeopardize their budding relationship. Alice couldn't relinquish her moral code, not even for Drizella. Changing the fundamental basis of a person's beliefs, true love couldn't act as an oppressive power, but rather, it had to be a force for improvement.

True love. Two young women, a contrasting array of ethical standards. Different viewpoints, both stubborn and assertive, Alice knew that her torrid affair with the raven-haired girl wouldn't obtain a happy ending, and yet, the promise of eternal joy in the company of a predestined soulmate could never compare to how pleasurable it felt for Alice to spend a few fleeting moments kissing Drizella Tremaine. 


	42. Dreams

Chapter 42

Dreams

* * *

 

Decorative chandeliers hung from the dome-shaped ceiling, composed of dangling crystals and golden trinkets. The walls were covered with white paint, a glossy coating that reflected the flickering flames emitted by several bejeweled candelabras. The vastly large room was equipped with a long, sturdy balcony, built at the end of the chamber.

The floor consisted of shiny marble tiles, polished and smooth. A huge dining table rested near the door, accompanied by a few cushioned chairs. Two resplendent glasses and a bucket laid on the rosewood surface. Within the metallic cylindrical container, ice cubes surrounded a champagne bottle.

Wavy, burgundy curtains framed the windows, displaying a clear view of the starry night sky. The bed was a monstrosity, armed with a wide mattress, its thick duvet comforter had been fabricated out of a soft, velvet material. Alice whistled appreciatively as she strolled into the extravagant premises.

A deluxe suite, located at a ridiculously expensive lodge, the facility's exterior had been constructed to essentially resemble a prestigious castle. Only aristocrats and royalty could afford to stay in such a luxurious resort. Nothing but the best accommodations for 'Duchess Ivy Belfrey' and her esteemed guest. It was outstanding that a few bags of gold coins could make the innkeepers forget to verify a person's identity.   

Standing in the middle of the living quarters, Drizella examined the housing arrangements. She surveyed the entire area, from top to bottom, smiling when everything seemed to satisfy her high standards of quality. Head twisting around, Drizella turned her attention toward Alice, who she secretly considered to be the most valuable acquisition in the room.

"So. _Duchess Ivy Belfrey_?" Alice slid up an eyebrow teasingly at the brunette.

"Well, I am a wanted fugitive." Drizella let out a dry laugh, "It was hard to come up with a name on the spot."

Alice's face scrunched up as troublesome thoughts invaded her mind. _A wanted fugitive._ The blonde remembered that Drizella Tremaine was accused of several despicable crimes, including Prince Gregor's murder. A part of Alice continued to place her hopes in an ideal fantasy, in the idea that Lady Tremaine had framed her daughter, but the blue-eyed girl knew better. A darkness existed within Drizella, a frightening and uncontrollable power. 

A sudden crackling pop, the sound of a cork being removed. Sizzling yellow fluid dripped down the nozzle of the champagne bottle, even the beverages at this establishment appeared to be made from gold. With a cheerful smile adorning her face, Drizella poured some of the sparkling cider into the two slim glasses. 

"Here." Drizella presented Alice with one of the glasses, "Cheers."

The brunette clinked their crystal goblets together, before taking a sip of her own drink. Drizella had never looked so happy and carefree. In this unguarded state, she was comfortable enough to unceremoniously slip a hand into her hair, loosening the braid. Long, ebony stresses trickled down Drizella's back, shimmering under the glow of the candlelight. Her astounding beauty never failed to mesmerize Alice. 

"Hey, what's wrong?" Drizella noticed that Alice's champagne glass was full, "Don't you like champagne? I can ask the servants to bring something else if-"

"No, no, no. It isn't that." Alice placed the glass on the table and walked toward Drizella, "I was just thinking about-"

Staring into those tender chocolate-brown irises, Alice couldn't bring herself to spoil the mood. She tucked a wisp of raven hair behind Drizella's ear. The blonde's fingers ran along the smaller girl's jaw, Alice concocted an evasive answer, and gave Drizella a genuine smile.

"I was just thinking about how all of _this-_ " Alice gestured to the chambers, lying through her teeth, "Reminds me of when we first met. The whole suite, it even looks like a royal ballroom. I'm afraid that I'm not really used to so much glamour and wealth."

A fictitious statement laced with a few truths, the blonde _did_ feel out of place, her scruffy clothes made a sharp contrast with all the sumptuous furnishings around her. Alice bit her bottom lip sheepishly, avoiding Drizella's scrutinizing gaze.

Craning her neck to the side, the perceptive young woman assessed Alice. She let her eyes roam the blonde's figure, from head to toe. Drizella smirked mischievously, raising an arm up, snapping her fingers, and summoning a cloud of purple mist.

The thick smoke swooshed around Alice's body, fumes engulfing her completely. After a few seconds, the magic fog floated away and dissipated, leaving the blonde dumbfounded. She looked down, discovering that her mangy attire had been replaced a blue, silk gown.

The bodice was embroidered with zirconia gems, a floral pattern that fell down to the hemline, arriving at a ruffled skirt. The cuffs of the sleeves reached to her wrists, laced with silver trimmings. A lopsided grin spread across Alice's face, thoroughly impressed with Drizella's grand act of generosity.

The raven-haired girl approached Alice, admiring her creation. She circled the blonde, inspecting the dress, deciding whether the measurements had been accurately tailored to the young woman's lithe form. Drizella brought both hands up to Alice's head, tangling her fingers into a mane of unruly locks, and casting a spell over them. 

Pristine golden curls cascaded onto Alice's shoulders, the finishing touches to the blonde's new appearance. The sapphire shade of the garment complemented the young woman's gleaming cerulean irises. Settling behind Alice, she wrapped both arms around the taller girl's waist. Drizella was finally pleased with the end results.

"You're gorgeous." Drizella placed her chin on Alice's shoulder, "I thought that silver and blue would suit you well."

"My favorite color is red." Alice chirped, turning to face Drizella, "And I'd bet that red would look great on you."

A blush manifested itself on Drizella's cheeks, she bowed her head down bashfully. Complying with Alice's wishes, Drizella waved one hand, procuring another session of purple smog, this time enveloping herself in the gaseous substance. When the haze vanished, Drizella stood before Alice, draped in a crimson dress.

The blonde’s pupils widened, her attention sequestered by how the gown stuck to Drizella's body, her curves accented and highlighted on display. The skirt was form-fitting, falling slightly past the knees. A tight corset hugged Drizella's torso, a low-cut neckline exposed the dark-haired girl's cleavage, situated upon her chest in a manner that was both tasteful and revealing.

"Hm. I was right." Alice appraised the brunette's figure, "But I suspect that anything looks good on you."

"You really think so?" Drizella asked, a concealed sense of insecurity resurfaced.

Alice had never seen this aspect of the brunette's personality before. Auburn eyes glistened with apprehension, a timid little girl laid buried underneath Drizella's arrogant flair. Lady Tremaine had spent years making her daughter feel worthless, engraving the notion that Drizella was somehow inferior. 

To suffer so much abuse at the hands of a parent, an unspeakable transgression. The damage had inflicted profound emotional scars. Alice's heart ached for Drizella, the sympathetic organ compelled her to lean down and offer some kind of comfort. With gentle affection, Alice cradled the brunette's face, thumb stroking the girl's cheek.

"You're the most beautiful girl that I've seen. Don't ever doubt that." Alice whispered with irrevocable conviction, "Remember, I've traveled to Wonderland, and other places, so I've seen a lot of girls."

A flustered smile graced Drizella's features, transforming into a giggle. She lifted her arms, perching both hands over Alice's shoulders. Heartbeat accelerating, the raven-haired girl surged forward, pushing up on her toes. Hesitating for an instant, she brushed her nose against Alice's face, shifting to press a kiss on the taller girl's left cheek.

Reclining back slowly, a green glimmer flashed across Drizella's eyes, a magical energy. Classical music filled the room, a tranquil symphony, composed of harmonizing violins and flutes. She had bewitched the room, conjuring a soothing tune that mixed with the dim illumination of the candelabras, produced a romantic atmosphere. 

"May I have this dance, Duchess Ivy Belfrey?" Alice grinned at Drizella, humoring the brunette.

"You may proceed." Drizella batted her eyelashes playfully, consenting with a curt nod.

Drizella permitted the golden-haired girl to commandeer her hand. Alice threaded their fingers together, slithering her other arm around Drizella's waist. The brunette allocated a palm on top of Alice's corresponding shoulder, securing the hold. 

Performing a sideways step to initiate the routine, Alice led them into a waltz. One, two, three. One, two, three. Exhibiting advanced skills and masterful poise, the blonde impressed Drizella with her surprising talent. 

"Whoa, you're _really_ good at waltzing." Drizella complimented the other girl's unexpected proficiency.

"Try not to sound so shocked." Alice chuckled, "My father taught me."

"He even instructed how to lead like a man?" Drizella wondered, the unconventional nature of her attraction toward Alice always lurked in the back of the brunette's mind. 

"Well, when I told him that I fancied girls rather than boys, he only deemed it logical for me to learn both roles of the dance." Alice divulged.

Faltering with a clumsy misstep, Drizella lost the rhythm of the music, relying on Alice to guide them back into the dance. The brunette sighed, glaring up at the taller girl with an apologetic expression. Drizella needed to make a profess her sincere lamentation, for not being about to break the curse that hindered Killian Jones. 

In spite of her confrontational encounters with the dark-haired man and his heroic friends, Drizella truly wished that she could have help him reunite with Alice, to fulfill the blue-eyed girl's single greatest desire. Guilt rattled Drizella's stomach, she looked up at the blonde.

"I'm sorry." Drizella muttered softly, "I was just thinking about how lucky you are to have a such an understanding father. If I had the power to break his affliction, I would have done so, Alice. I'd do anything for you."

"And I believe you, Drizella." Alice slumped down and pressed a kiss on the brunette's forehead, "I've already forgiven you for lying to me, okay? Now, keep up."

Twirling Drizella around, the blonde began to reset the tempo, synchronized to the music. One, two, three. With a charismatic wink, Alice dipped the other girl over her arm. Drizella giggled, grabbing onto Alice's neck in order to maintain her balance.

Dancing back and forth across the room, their feet glided along the floor, in time with the melody. Alice quickened the pace, unaware that she was shuffling them closer toward the bed.

Both young women chuckled, bumping against each other, their stamina depleting. Drizella's mobility was constrained by the narrowness of her skirt, and with one slip, she dropped back onto the mattress, dragging Alice down with her. 

The golden-haired girl fell over Drizella, a hand cupping one of the brunette's hips. Both of Drizella's arms were latched around Alice's neck, locking her in a firm embrace. Amused by the predicament, giggles erupted between them.

Enthusiastic laughter eventually morphed into tired yawns. The night was wearing Alice and Drizella down, solely sheer adrenaline had been keeping them awake for this long.

Laying down beside the brunette, Alice realized that Drizella looked utterly exhausted. Eyelids drooping shut, it seemed as if Drizella was waging a war with her body, struggling against the biological necessity to sleep. 

"Don't leave me, Alice." Drizella murmured groggily, "Please."

The terms of their arrangement, a proposal that Alice almost forgot. Drizella had one day to justify the reason why she was going to invoke the dark curse, to effectively convince the blonde to stay by her side. A suffocating pressure swelled inside Alice's chest, her heart shattering at the thought of abandoning the raven-haired girl. Come what may, she vowed to at least give Drizella a chance to explain herself. 

"I won't, Drizella." Alice reassured, throwing an arm over the brunette's waist and pulling her near, "Get some sleep, I'll be here in the morning."

Minutes passed, the world slowed down and melted away, as Alice and Drizella laid on top of the mattress, curled up toward one another. Just the sound of their breathing echoed through the suite. Given the fact that Drizella could barely keep her eyes open, the musical incantation had been dispelled.

The blonde dragged her fingers over the smaller girl's arm in a calming motion. With Drizella's gaze directed at her, Alice became unnerved. Those brown irises stared at her intently, believing that Alice was the solution to all of Drizella's problems.

Bridging the distance between them, Alice captured the other young woman’s lips with her mouth. Starting off innocent and chaste, but incrementing in fervor. Fingers tracing across the brunette's jaw, kissing Drizella with all the love that she could muster, until Alice's natural requirement for oxygen forced her to disengage.

Nuzzling against the crook of Alice's neck, Drizella felt at peace, safe enough to let herself succumb to sleep. The blonde cuddled around Drizella, appreciating how the shorter girl's body molded into her own. Drifting out of consciousness, both young women were engrossed amidst a series of loving touches and gentle caresses, departing for the land of dreams, the only realm where either of them could be free.


	43. Assorted Treats

Chapter 43

Assorted Treats

* * *

 

A pleasant aroma infiltrated the atmosphere, the result of several overpowering smells released by various delicacies, all wafting together through the air. Saffron. Paprika. Oregano. Spices converging to form a scrumptious fragrance, potent enough to revive the dead.

Inciting a loud grumble from Alice's stomach, azure eyes fluttered open. The blonde had been awakened by hunger, prompting her to sit upright on the mattress. The sunlight shining in through the window was overwhelmingly bright, blinding Alice for a moment before her pupils adjusted to the glare.

Vision coming into a focus, a buffet had been staged across a long table near the edge of the bed. Food platters laid on the wooden surface, beautiful culinary pieces, crafted by chefs who had mastered the art of cooking. Alice stared at the surreal display, wondering if she had died in her sleep and woken up in heaven.

An entire chicken, roasted to perfection, marinated with seasoned oils, the outer skin was crispy and golden. Mounds of mashed potatoes, white and fluffy, garnished with specks of spinach. Lettuces leaves, tomato chunks, minced carrots, chopped onions, all mixed in a bowl, drenched in sour cream dressing, a substantial amount of salad. A plate full of quiches, the tiny crusted tarts were brimming with cheese, coated in a thick layer of mozzarella and brie. 

To the left side, a section had been reserved for desserts and pastries. Chocolate-covered strawberries lined up in a circle, surrounding a tall, vanilla cake with meringue frosting. A flan sprinkled with coconut flakes, the custard was dripping with caramel. A tray with lovely, assorted treats. Rectangular lemon bars, blueberry muffins, tarts and pies that Alice couldn't even identify.

"Good, you're awake." A voice drew Alice's attention.

Turning her head, the blonde spotted Drizella standing by the dining table, a ceramic dish held with one hand and a fork in the other. She wore the same extravagant dress from the previous night. A few graceful motions, the brunette gathered portions of food and organized them meticulously on the plate.

"You slept through breakfast, and I had no idea what you might like for lunch, or how hungry you would be." Drizella approached the bed, lowering herself down the edge of the mattress, "So, I ordered _everything_ on the menu."

Lips molding into a proud smirk, Drizella seemed pleased with the decision to be wasteful. Through refined mannerisms, she cut into a chicken breast, poking the slab of meat with her fork, and lifted the morsel up to Alice's mouth.

The raven-haired girl was spoiled rotten, so out of touch with society's woes, unaware that some people struggled to get one daily meal, and for her to just squander away food, like it meant nothing. Pupils narrowing, rage flared up across Alice's cobalt eyes. She swatted Drizella's wrist, refusing to accept the offering.

"Do you know that some people are starving to death?" Alice snapped, "And you're here, overindulging, ordering plates and plates of food. We aren't going to eat all this stuff, it's completely wasteful."

Shock washed over Drizella's face, she had never witnessed Alice in such a state of distress. Recomposing herself after a couple of seconds, the brunette placed the fork on the plate and scoffed at the other girl's naivety. Poor people would surely act just as gluttonous, perhaps even more so, if presented with the opportunity to be in Drizella's position. Why shouldn't she take full advantage of her wealth?

"Poor people wouldn't think twice to eat all of this. Being poor doesn't make them saints, and being privileged doesn't make me a devil." Drizella scowled, standing up from the bed, "People are all the same, always looking out for themselves."

"Whatever happened to make you _so_ jaded?" Alice quipped.

Blood drained from the brunette's cheeks, product of the upsetting realization that her behavior would never be quite up to Alice's standards. She gritted her teeth, setting the plate on the surface of the rosewood table. Drizella had grown tired of trying to meet someone else's silly expectations.

"Fine!" Drizella snarled, "Don't eat at all then, I couldn't care less."

Storming off and exiting the suite, Drizella headed toward the balcony, heels clicking on the textile floor. She didn't have the patience to deal with Alice's misplaced resentment. Face flushing red, palms sweaty and clammy, the raven-haired girl hoped that the fresh air might diffuse her anger. Alice's habit of seeing redemptive qualities in everyone had been endearing, but now her ignorance was frustrating. Drizella couldn't possibly be held accountable for the crop shortages, the scarcity of livestock, and all the monetary grievances that plagued the land.

Watching as Drizella sauntered away, Alice clenched her fists around the bedsheets, appalled by the brunette's blatant cynicism. An individual should strive to do the right thing for the sake of their own conscience. Altruism. Charity. Diligence. These concepts eluded Drizella's shallow mind. She lacked a sense of compassion, the innate motivation to empathize with people who were less fortunate than herself. Slowly breathing in and out, Alice tried to calm down her rattled nerves.

The young women were at odds with one another, each with a contrasting opinion, a polar opposite outlook on life. Both girls retreated to their own separate corners, divided by a figurative border. Headstrong and stubborn, devoted to a different set of principles, Drizella and Alice, chose to brood instead of engaging in a meaningful discussion. Ice and fire. Black or white. Darkness and light. Two wayward souls, with everything yet to be said.

* * *

The steady thumping of the pendulum clock hanging on the wall echoed through the suite. A heavy weight, the harmonic oscillator, swinging back and forth, clinking away the seconds. Circular face of the dial was made from luxurious quartz; hands were solid gold. As the hours passed, Alice couldn't withstand staring at the overly expensive timekeeping device, reminding her of how Drizella hadn't returned.

Cerulean eyes absentmindedly wandered around the room, gazing upon the platter that Drizella had arranged earlier, still resting over the table. Sliced up portions of chicken, accompanied by a generous scoop of mashed potatoes. In spite of her selfish tendencies, Drizella did take the time to worry about the blonde's well-being, thoughtfully preparing a plate of food for her.

The constant bouts of famine that afflicted the rural countryside, the less fortunate citizens who lived in poverty, the injustice of some people having enough to spare while others suffered from deficiencies, none of those issues were Drizella's fault. A dull ache throbbed against the blonde's chest. Alice had judged Drizella too harshly, overreacting with criticism that the raven-haired girl did not deserve.

Jumping from off the bed, her feet hit the ground with a thud. Alice didn't bother to put on any shoes, the fancy slippers that Drizella's magic had procured didn't suit her well. Too extravagant and impractical. The blonde grabbed a napkin, piling a few items into her hand. She trudged toward the balcony, prepping up to give Drizella a sincere apology.

Pushing through the curtains that segregated the chambers from the exterior platform, a beautiful scenery exhibited before Alice. Glimmering sunbeams rained upon a stunning panorama. A vast expanse of trees stretched out beneath the balcony, green bushy tops looked like short ferns from high above. Miles of forest encased the resort, a spectacular sight.

Arms propped up on top of stone barrier, Drizella was leaning against the ledge, admiring the stunning landscape. Rays of light glittering in her raven curls, Drizella's hair tendrils waved rapidly in the wind. Eyes remained concentrated on the horizon, engrossed in her ruminations. 

A chilly breeze swept across the elevated terrace, sending a shiver down the brunette's spine. The red gown might be gorgeous, but it did little to shield her against the low temperatures. Alice took a couple of steps forward, eliminating the gap between them. 

The young woman couldn't bear to see Drizella shuddering in the cold. It brought back too many painful memories, of living inside a lonely tower, waiting by the window sill for Killian to visit, often quivering and trembling due to the frigid atmospheric conditions.

"You're cold." Alice blurted out from behind of Drizella.

With a swift movement, Alice wrapped an arm around the dark-haired girl's waist. Her palm rubbed up and down Drizella's sides, creating heated friction, warming the young woman's inadequately shaking frame. Using tender massages and tracing across in soothing circles, she flattened out the goosebumps on the brunette's skin.

Startled by Alice's touch, Drizella flinched, her body tensing up. Dawdling for a minute, her head slowly turned toward Alice. The brunette had an unreadable expression on her face. A resigned sigh spilled out from Drizella's partly opened mouth, lips pressing together in the shape of a tentative smile.

"Thanks." Drizella muttered politely, her breath converting into white mist as she spoke.

Although Alice assumed that the other girl had been boiling over with disdain when she stomped out of the suite, Drizella simply needed to reconcile with her own demons before she recklessly lashed out, utilizing some cruel remarks. The brunette attempted to renounce her old unhealthy coping mechanisms; misguided fury and ruthless retaliation, neither ever did much to alleviate Drizella's suffering. As pathetic and demeaning as it sounded, Drizella would do anything to become the person that Alice wanted her to be.

"I brought a peace tribute." Alice announced with an eager grin.

Unraveling the napkin, a beige cookie laid on Alice's hand. Linear ridges across the top, Drizella had never encountered such a quaint treat. Tiramisu. Creme soufflé. Macarons. Only the finest desserts could be found at the Tremaine Manor, the lady of the house didn't care for wafers and biscuits, those types of baked goods were meant for mere commoners.

"Try it, I promise that you'll like it." Alice urged, bringing the cookie up to Drizella's lips.

Armed with the apprehension of a feral cat, Drizella took a small bite of the confectionery. Brittle and crunchy, the substance melted in her mouth. She didn't recognize the taste, a flavor similar to almonds and pistachios, but with more of an indescribable zest.

Eyes widening in surprise, Drizella hadn't imagined that something appearing so indistinguishable, was actually irresistibly delicious. Fingers held up to her mouth, Drizella quickly chewed down the cookie.

"This is so good." Drizella chirped, "What is it?"

"A peanut-butter cookie." Alice replied, relieved that the elegant girl had enjoyed her selection of treat.

It was odd to see a basket of peanut-butter cookies next to an array of lavish desserts. Rich aristocrats had a habit of coming across a humble peasant dish and introducing it as some exotic decadence.

"I came here to apologize. I was incredibly rude to you. It's just that-" Alice lowered her head, "I've been dirt poor, and hungry. I know what it's like to fall asleep with an empty stomach. When I saw all that food, I guess- I-I don't know. But I am sorry."

"Oh, Alice." Drizella cooed, placing a hand on the blonde's neck, "I'm sorry for being so insensitive."

Recalling the day that she had met Alice, how the blonde didn't hesitate to share her sandwich with Drizella, it roused the raven-haired girl's emotions. Alice was an impossibly generous person, she deserved more than this primordial plane of existence. The idea of Alice experiencing such dreadful adversities, it broke Drizella's heart. Hand sliding down to Alice's shoulder, she softly caressed the blonde's lower neck, stroking the protruding bones. Had Alice always been this thin, or did Drizella just noticed the paleness of her skin?

"There are universes where people don't struggle through so many hardships." Drizella murmured, "Places where there are more resources, and food is far easier to come by."

"Yeah?" Alice shifted closer to Drizella.

Convincing Alice to set aside her deeply ingrained morals and comprehend the purpose behind the dark curse could prove to be less difficult than Drizella had originally envisioned. The belief in a better world, the brunette must guarantee Alice that the forbidden incantation could improve living conditions, even if it came at a high cost.

"The dark curse, it would take us _all_ to another realm." Drizella snaked her arms around Alice's shoulders, "And if you are there with me, when I cast the spell, if you stay by my side, I can assure you that all your memories will stay intact. Me and you, we can design a better world together."

"A world without true love?" Alice frowned, arching an eyebrow, "I heard what you told Henry. True love's kiss can break the dark curse. Or do you think that our feelings are vapid and unworthy?"

"No, no, no." Drizella shook her head, "There is nothing truer than what I feel for you. And I've studied up on how to cast the curse, I'll alter the spell. If you are with me, I can shield us from its adverse effects."

Drizella's nails grazed against Alice's neck, she ran one hand down the golden-haired girl's sides, settling on her upper back, while the brunette's other palm cupped Alice's face. The pad of Drizella's thumb stroked the other young woman's cheekbone, as if she were trying to convey a message and words alone didn't suffice.

"We would be able to kiss and hug, and to-" Drizella paused, tone dropping to a hoarse whisper, "Well, other things, that we can do..."

The statement would remain unfinished, the phrase trailing off. Alice stopped breathing, unable to blink, captivated by the depth of Drizella's auburn irises. The blonde wanted to formulate a rebuttal, but a sadness in Drizella's eyes indicated that she was vehemently devoted to her nefarious scheme. Transporting the inhabitants of this realm to another one, not granting them the luxury of true love, an indisputable act of philanthropy, as viewed with the brunette's distorted perspective. Alice knew that she wouldn't be able to reach Drizella, the raven-haired girl was already an astronomical distance away from her.

With a sudden urgency, Drizella grabbed two fistfuls of Alice's dress, crushing the taller girl's mouth against her own. It was rushed, and sloppy, but the brunette couldn’t slow down. Drizella felt hollow and empty, Alice's lips were the softest thing that she had ever touched. Her hands clawed at the blonde's bodice, fingers toying with the laces. 

Drizella pushed against Alice's mouth. She caught the blonde's bottom lip, teeth sinking in gently, smoothing over the swollen skin with her tongue. A moan erupted from Alice's throat, the aching sensation of arousal crept across her abdominal section, making its way downward. Insatiable and hungry, Drizella wanted to elicit more of Alice's sensual whimpers. She almost growled, desperate and frustrated when the blue-eyed girl began to pull back.

"D-Drizella. Stop." Alice ordered, her hands seized the brunette's wrists, "Don't start something that we can't finish."

Her pupils were dilated, cheeks reddened, Drizella struggled against the stronger girl's firm hold. Without ever turning away from Alice, she glided forward, lips tracing along the blonde's jawline. Drizella nipped at the blonde's earlobe, playfully sucking on the sensitive flesh that she found there.

"Then let's finish it." Drizella purred suggestively, smirking as Alice's grip on her wrists loosened.

Instead of an articulate response, Drizella felt the other young woman's arms latch around her waist securely. Before Drizella had a chance to process the implications of her own proposition, Alice's hand moved onto the brunette's back, reeling her in at an inadmissibly sluggish pace. Alice finally leaned down, capturing Drizella's lips. The taller girl's other hand traveled up into Drizella's long hair, twisting the ebony tresses around her fingers. Understanding her cue, Drizella opened her mouth, allowing Alice's tongue to enter.

Savoring Drizella's saliva, ingesting the brunette's breath, it was enough to give Alice an empowering rush of adrenaline. She trailed her palm along Drizella's sides, reaching down to cup the bottom of the smaller girl's thighs and hoisting her up effortlessly. Instinctively, Drizella wrapped her legs around Alice’s torso, and the pressure she placed on the blonde's midsection ignited an unquenchable fire between them. Running both hands through Alice's yellow locks, Drizella took control of the kiss.

From the balcony, to the suite, Alice somehow successfully carried Drizella back into room, having walked along the right direction, despite the fact that her lips were still glued to the brunette's mouth. Bumping against the foot of the large bed, Alice lowered the smaller girl onto the edge of the mattress. Bunching up the red fabric, she maneuvered around the skirt of Drizella's dress, positioning herself between the young woman's legs. 

Drizella unceremoniously kicked her shoes off, and lunged upward to press her mouth against Alice's neck, showering the blonde's exposed skin with brief pecks. The two girls giggled, enjoying how natural the current situation felt for them. The seamless manner in which their bodies sway together, like this was how things were supposed to be. In tune with each other’s gestures, as if Alice and Drizella had spent countless lifetimes perfecting the choreography, tugging at barricading garments and intrusive articles of clothing. 

When Drizella reclined back, brown eyes hooded, face flustered, and plump lips slightly parted, Alice just knew that she was irrevocably and unabashedly in love with this girl. Without uttering a single word, Drizella nodded in agreement to an unspoken request, submitting her sacred vow of consent. Alice smiled sweetly, bending down to initiate a breathtakingly sensual kiss between them. Hands pulling at each other’s gowns, Alice and Drizella silently acknowledged that the rest of the night wouldn't require much more verbal communication.


	44. Overflooding Emotions

Chapter 44

Overflooding Emotions

* * *

 

Silvery beams of light filtered through the crimson curtains and shined a rosy hue onto the suite's ivory walls, providing the large room with clear visibility. Crickets could be heard chirping outside the window, owls hooting ominously from a distance, and despite the perpetual quietude of the establishment, those noises failed to silence the hushed whispers and the low moans that were reverberating across the chamber.

Patience reaped its rewards, several minutes of intense kissing and futile disrobing attempts had finally transitioned into more affirmative maneuvers. Fingers raced to untie the straps of a bodice, loosening an obstructive blue gown, allowing the garment to slide off. A toned, muscular abdomen was exposed to the cold atmosphere. Gleaming beneath the dim illumination of the lunar glow, three faint scars could be seen. The jagged flesh became outlined, set on display before the compassionate scrutiny of two auburn irises.

Lips pressed against Alice's neatly cauterized wounds, Drizella peppered the pale skin with feather-light kisses. The young woman trailed her mouth down to Alice's navel, eliciting a gutural moan when she darted her tongue around the blonde's umbilicus. Hands combed through a mane of raven tresses, Alice towered above, her knees pushing into the mattress, astride of Drizella, as the brunette sat upright, legs dangling over the bed's edge.

Eager to commence an activity that she had no prior experience with, the tips of Drizella's nails flicked across the taller girl's undergarments. The brunette tried to be assertive, hoping that Alice wouldn't ascertain just how much of an amateur she truly was. Hesitating to pull the cotton fabric down, Drizella grew nervous, fidgeting against the waistband. Perceiving that something might be wrong, Alice tugged on the dark hair tendrils, urging Drizella to look up at her.

"Hey." Alice muttered lovingly, interlacing her fingers through Drizella's curls, "Have you ever been with a woman before?"

Biting her bottom lip sheepishly, Drizella lowered her head. Red tint colored both cheeks, throat constricted with shame, she felt mortified. The brunette contemplated on whether she should lie or not, terribly embarrassed at her own inadequacy. Drizella must seem like a fumbling child to Alice. Averting her eyes, she looked away from the blonde before speaking.

"N-No... I've never been with anyone before." Drizella admitted, a slight tremble in her voice.

Tilting her head to the side, Alice processed the answer. She slid her hand down to cradle Drizella's face, thumb stroking her cheek. Alice smiled reassuringly, leaning over to place a brief kiss on the smaller girl's forehead. Alice's heart pounded with love for Drizella, amused by the brunette’s timid behavior.

In all sincerity, Alice suspected that this was Drizella's first sexual encounter with a woman, she just hadn't envisioned such a high level of innocence coming from the boastful raven-haired girl. Alice reevaluated her priorities, she needed the brunette to feel safe. Everything had to transpire flawlessly, Alice wanted to give Drizella a bunch of wonderful memories.

"I'm honored, Drizella." Alice cooed, holding Drizella's chin between her knuckles and thumb, "If at any moment, you want me to stop, say something, okay? This experience _has_ to be pleasant for you, nothing else matters to me."

Relief washed over Drizella's face, it felt as though her heart had resumed beating. The brunette nodded with a small grin, slumping into Alice's touch. She placed a chaste peck on the golden-haired girl's hand. Reinvigorated by Alice's empathy, Drizella surged forward and captured the blonde's lips. The kiss was rougher, faster, and more desperate than ever before.

Refusing to lose control of the situation, Alice aligned both palms over Drizella’s shoulders, pushing the smaller girl onto the wrinkled bedsheets. Alice's lips melted against Drizella's mouth, matching its ebbs and flows. The cozy sensation that Alice felt in her chest could only be caused by Drizella, the blonde's beloved pretty sorceress. Alice slowly drew back to survey the aftermath. Breathless, but otherwise content, Drizella grinned, her brown eyes sparkling with lust.

A lopsided smirk was plastered across Alice's face, arms reaching around behind her torso, she unclasped the latch of her brassiere. Alice flung the flimsy accessory onto the floor, permitting her chest to lay bare for Drizella’s hungry eyes to feast upon. Alice propped herself up on the mattress, an arm anchored at each side of Drizella’s head, hovering over the brunette's lithe form.

Sweeping down to press wet pecks along Drizella’s neck, Alice wedged her knee in between the shorter girl's legs. A startled gasp escaped the young woman’s lips, fingers clutching around the back of Alice's head, digging into golden unruly locks. Drizella whimpered as the blonde grazed a particularly sensitive spot on her throat.

"You're okay?" Alice inquired, requiring Drizella's consent before she continued on.

"Y-Yeah." Drizella stammered out, "Keeping going."

Obedient and dutiful, Alice grabbed a hold of the raven-haired girl's wrists and pinned them to the mattress. It was not lost on Drizella that the blonde's bare breasts were grinding against her still clad chest. Alice’s cobalt eyes darkened, a predatory leer, she released Drizella’s arms, dropping her hands down to the brunette’s calves.

Tracing her fingers along Drizella’s thighs, Alice gathered the skirt of the red gown, pooling the material around the brunette's hips. Peeling the fabric from off Drizella’s skin, Alice removed the encumbering dress with one swift motion. Due to the form-fitting nature of the dark-haired girl's attire, there were no undergarments covering her intimate areas, a fact that Alice became acutely aware of. Excited by Drizella's bare form, pulse quickening, an aching pang circulated down to the blonde's abdomen. She focused on the magnificent creature sprawled beneath her, appraising every inch of Drizella’s nude figure.

Alice's eyes wandered, charting the precious freckles on Drizella's chest, the symmetry of her bountiful round breasts. She assessed the shapely curves, the unique birthmarks, the delicate creases, concluding that the brunette was a work of art, a sculpture worthy of daily veneration. The enchanting girl hidden behind an arrogant mask, Drizella Tremaine had deactivated all of her pretenses. A different person laid before Alice, unguarded, genuine, and impossibly beautiful.

"You're so unbearably gorgeous." Alice swooned, her blue eyes remained transfixed on Drizella’s face, drowning in those brown fractals.

Smiling like a lovestruck fool, Drizella was about to reply when the blonde dove down and seized her lips. Alice pressed Drizella against the mattress, deepening the kiss before abruptly moving to the dark-haired girl’s inviting neck. Drizella tipped her head back, sinking into the pillow and letting out a moan, a yearning plea for more contact. Alice took her time, exploring Drizella's skin with both hands while her mouth concentrated on the brunette's jawline.

The slow pace appeared to suit the raven-haired girl, she arched herself, allowing Alice full access to the landscape of her own body. Every soft swell, all the unseen crevices, there was an abundance of terrain to inspect, traits and characteristics about Drizella's anatomy that Alice would be the first to discover.

Not one to be bested, Drizella practiced the technique of hauling her fingers across Alice’s stomach, approaching the border of the taller girl's trousers. The blonde suppressed a groan as her hips canted forward of their own accord. Drizella attached her lips onto Alice's sternum, paving a path of sweet kisses upward, between the valley of Alice's breasts. With a graceful movement, Drizella pulled down Alice's last article of clothing, evening the score.

Alice lifted her neck back in response, the kisses continuing down to the dip in her collarbone. She kicked off her trousers, finishing the endeavor that Drizella had started. Fingers coiling around raven locks, Alice steadied Drizella's head, instructing the brunette’s mouth on where to go. Alice's naked skin tingled, Drizella's sloppy kisses were efficient, igniting her arousal. Every part of the blonde burned. She placed a finger on Drizella's chin, bringing their lips up to meet each other.

Bestowing an ardent, scorching kiss onto Drizella's mouth, Alice began trailing pecks down the shaking girl's body, adding tiny bites, and forming little blemishes over a landscape of impeccable skin. Alice did her best to restrain at least some of her intensifying passion, but she longed to devour Drizella’s flesh. The brunette willingly opened up to Alice's appetite, fighting fire with fire, quelling her own insatiable need. Two pairs of hands roamed to the soundtrack of grunts and rustling bedsheets. Drizella could barely breath as the blonde's palms traveled to her chest.

Without preamble, Alice's mouth latched onto one of Drizella’s nipples, using her tongue to swirl around the brunette's areola. Alice's fingers pinched and squeezed the dark-haired girl's other breast, kneading the lump tenderly. Driven by instinct, Drizella dug her nails into Alice’s shoulders, groaning out, the blonde's actions felt foreign to her.

"S-Sorry." Alice stuttered, springing apart from the smaller girl, "I got carried away."

"Stop being so damn polite, this _isn't_ ballroom dancing." Drizella quipped teasingly, frustrated by how the blonde's lips had abandoned her skin.

The domineering aspect of Drizella's personality brimming through, the brunette couldn't handle being treated as if she were a fragile crystal ornament. Emitting an involuntary growl, Drizella threw her arms over Alice's neck, looking up at the taller girl with a smug expression.

Unyielding trust was painted across two brown irises, accompanied by a glint of newfound confidence. Drizella reeled Alice's head down, sequestering the blonde's lips with her own.

It quickly became evident to Alice that the raven-haired girl was trying to prove something. The blonde whined when Drizella's lips detached themselves from her mouth, even if two sets of lungs had been strained beyond their biological capacities. Panting heavily from the lack of oxygen, Drizella rested their foreheads together. The palpitations of the brunette’s heart were erratic, she struggled to formulate a coherent sentence.

A necessity boiled within the pits of Drizella's groin, an overwhelming ardor that she couldn't describe. The brunette had an unidentifiable craving, she bended both legs up at the knee, wrapping them around the opposite sides of the taller girl's waist. Drizella's alabaster skin was flustered and sweaty, radiating heat from every pore.

"P-Please. It-" Drizella croaked out, pausing for a second to collect her thoughts, "It i-itches."

Drizella blushed, closing her eyes as she spread out her own thighs. The brunette's pelvic section throbbed against Alice's abdomen. Mouth opened slightly, chest heaving up and down. Alice reclined back to look at the exquisite specimen squirming under her. She licked her lips, reviewing the request that Drizella's body was making.

Gently draping an arm across Drizella's stomach, Alice laid herself on top of the shorter girl. She slid her hand over the endlessly smooth topography of Drizella's ribcage, counting the indented ridges. There was so much of Drizella to analyze, more enticing noises that Alice wanted to hear slip out of the raven-haired girl's plump lips.

Dragging the pads of her fingers along Drizella’s torso, Alice kept navigating down the length of the brunette’s figure, memorizing each contour, every twist and turn. A stray thought entered Alice's mind. Could the blonde fulfill a virgin's expectations? Alice's throat was constricting with fear, unable to bear the notion of disappointing Drizella, or even worse, what if she hurt the girl?

Alice’s palm brushed past Drizella's navel, tentatively shuffling toward a forbidden corner. The dark-haired girl's head pivoted to the side, nose skimming against Alice's collarbone. Drizella nuzzled into the blonde's neck, mumbling indistinguishable gibberish, phrases that couldn't be deciphered. Observing the brunette's adorable mannerisms, a grin manifested itself on Alice's face.

Eyebrows furrowing with purpose, Drizella stretched out an arm. Her hand caressed Alice's hip bone, attempting to convey a message. She thrashed under the weight of the blonde, fingers searching for a proper angle.

"Tell me what to do for you, please." Drizella pleaded softly.

Realizing what Drizella desired, Alice obliged, gripping onto the brunette's wrist, guiding the hand to a coveted destination. Wordlessly and with apprehension, Drizella's fingers rubbed the juncture between Alice’s legs, Losing all their senses against one another, inhaling each other's scents, an exchange of titillating services. Colors brightened behind both young women's eyelids, two beating hearts synchronizing, nerves begging to be fondled.

Alice plummeted forward and claimed Drizella's lips, worming her tongue into the smaller girl’s mouth. Alice ended the kiss abruptly, needing them both to have a functioning respiratory system before reaching the final stage of intimacy. The blonde's hand kept journeying down, disappearing across a sacred threshold on Drizella's body. Rummaging amidst layers of moist folds, locating an entrance, Alice plunged two fingers inside, piercing through the narrow passage that was insulated with spongy tissue.

"O-Oh." Drizella winced, face scrunching up with distress.

Fighting against the urge to comfort Drizella, the blonde simply pecked the aggrieved girl's cheek. She knew that Drizella would feel better after her membranes were stretched, adapting to the penetration. Alice readjusted her hand, pushing a thumb onto Drizella's clitoris, aiming to soothe the brunette’s consternation.

"Relax for me, please. Don't tense up. I want to make you feel better, my pretty sorceress." Alice's heart swelled up with love, feeling Drizella obey her commands.

Drizella buried her face against the nape of the blonde's neck, body relaxing and complying. Alice murmured a few more sweet affirmations into raven-haired girl's ear. She ravished Drizella with loving kisses, mouth sliding along the back of brunette's jaw.

Through Alice's unrelenting massages, Drizella's initial tinge of pain became sheer ecstacy. She mimicked the Alice's gestures, wishing for the blonde to feel the same pleasure. Unable to contain her overflooding emotions, the quivering brunette clenched a fist into a mane of yellow curls. Skin against skin, groans and grunts harmonizing like a majestic symphony, increasing in tempo as well-placed caresses began building momentum, creating magnificent friction.

Shifting her legs, Alice repositioned herself to accommodate the other girl's reciprocal strokes, burrowing her face into the crook of Drizella's neck. Alice kept her composure, fixated on satisfying the brunette. Drizella's hips buckled, thighs flailing around.

"A-Alice... Alice. Al-Alice." Drizella composed a melody with just two syllables.

The brunette chanted Alice's name, her breathing labored. Every puff of air that Drizella took produced an intoxicating image to behold. Tightening her grasp on Drizella's waist, Alice found an appropriate rhythm of movement. A milestone worth cherishing, with every thrust of her hand, Drizella writhed from the bliss induced by Alice's sensual ministrations, shuddering against the blonde's chest. Raw, the rush of blood to her head, tangling fingers through Alice's hair, Drizella gasped as she lifted her back from off the mattress, toes curling.

Arriving at the pinnacle of the stimulation, Drizella's first orgasm ripped through quaking core. Muscles clamping around Alice's fingers, tears collecting at the corners of the brunette's closed eyes. Her mouth partially open, face crumpled up, two cute dimples became visible. Such a stunningly gorgeous view, combined with Drizella's clumsy touches, it was enough to tip Alice over her own limits.

Loud cries converting into muffled whimpers, as Alice held the brunette's head with one hand, while four of Drizella’s nails clawed against the taller girl's back, tremors of their mutual release subsiding. Alice flopped down on top of the bed, settling beside Drizella, both young women were completely worn out from thoroughly probing each other's bodies.

Depleted of energy, Alice rolled over to her side. Using an elbow, she supported herself, glancing toward the brunette’s nude form. Alice noticed that Drizella was staring at the ceiling and fighting to regulate her breathing. Perspiration beaded on Drizella's chest, the tops of the dark-haired girl’s breasts glimmered with sweat, her eyes fluttering open. Drizella's flushed skin glowed, round cheeks were puffy and reddened. Alice had never seen a more tantalizing sight.

"Well, was it good?" Alice asked gleefully, poking the brunette's stomach.

"Yeah, you were amazing." Drizella chuckled heartily, "You are obviously just fishing for compliments."

"Well, you were pretty amazing too." Alice laughed, kissing Drizella's cheek.

Coy giggles, satisfied and pleased. Bare limbs intertwined, seeking a more comfortable arrangement. Alice realigned herself around Drizella's body, serving as the smaller girl's cushion. Fingers threaded through raven curls, petting the unruly tresses. Drizella allocated her chin on top of Alice's shoulder, hanging an arm over the blonde's abdomen.

"Alice?" Drizella muttered, looking up to the other girl.

"Hm?" Alice hummed groggily, withered down from physical exertion.

"I-I..." Drizella choked, unable to verbalize a sentiment.

"What is it, Drizella?" Alice grew concerned, directing her gaze downward.

Spellbinding and hypnotic, the depths of Drizella's black pupils seemed endless. Her auburn irises were luminous, looking up at Alice as if she were the most marvelous treasure in the entire universe. Identical wreaths of dark lashes blinked, Drizella was clearly anxious.

"I-I love you." Drizella whispered the declaration, struggling with the words, as if she hadn't uttered them in a long time.

The blonde breath hitched, face contorting into an unreadable expression. An assortment of emotions and sensations flashed across Alice's azure eyes. After a few seconds, the ends of the golden-haired girl's mouth quirked upward to form a wide smile. Her facial features softened, and she glided a hand up, cradling the brunette's cheek lovingly in her palm. Alice's heart expanded, consumed by a sense of accomplishment. She bowed down, pressing against Drizella’s lips, initiating a lingering kiss. Alice leaned back, sighing with gratification.

Nothing else had to be spoken, Drizella laid her head on Alice's chest, listening to the blonde's heart hammering underneath her ear. When Drizella's breathing steadied and sleep overcoming her, Alice nestled against the mattress. She grabbed the bedsheets, covering the shivering brunette and herself with them. Alice pressed a few innocent pecks over Drizella's face, successfully transforming the thin line of the raven-haired girl's lips into a content smile.

Cuddling into Alice, the brunette fell asleep, drifting off to a peaceful slumber. The golden-haired girl stayed awake, watching reels of memories screen through her eyelids, reliving each incident, as if all the moments that she shared with Drizella were scorched onto her soul.

Happiness had eluded Drizella Tremaine's life, despite all of her own valiant efforts. Ghouls from the past hindered even the shortest reprieves, the brunette couldn't find a fleeting instant of peace. Alice fought to slay the vulnerable girl's demons, whatever emptiness lived inside of Drizella was reaching out for affection. Alice protectively kept an arm wrapped around Drizella's waist, relishing how _warm_ the young woman felt.

Love, a murmured proclamation, spilling from Drizella's lips. The fervent confession only made things harder at best. Alice needed to implement a contingency plan against the dark curse, even if it meant sacrificing her own feelings for Drizella. Star-crossed lovers, Alice pledged her allegiance to the forces of good, while Drizella upheld a villain's mantle.

Resentments. Anger. Hatred. Darkness filled a gap inside of Drizella’s heart, a crater that Alice couldn't repair. Hope, the remedy to their affliction. The blonde held on to the promise that Drizella would redeem herself. Head riddled with doubts, Alice had a difficult choice to make. A tempest brewing in the horizon, both young women might have to weather the storm alone. It was no secret, Alice and Drizella were running out of time.


	45. Endings

Chapter 45

Endings

* * *

 

An enchanting quietude lingered upon the large room, air blowing through the windows, fluttering against the thin drapes, without making a sound, the curtains waved back and forth as lunar beams shined on the white fabric, creating a ghostly sight, as if a herd of phantoms were attempting to enter the premises. 

Shadows had developed under Alice's eyes, bloodshot retinas as a result of unbearable exhaustion. She laid wide awake on her back, glaring at the golden chandelier that hung from the ceiling. Silver light reflected across the dangling crystals, mesmerizing Alice with their gleaming sparkles, polychromatic twinkles that were as erratic and confusing as the blonde's thoughts.

Contemplating ideas and concepts that would become irrelevant in the morning, Alice's mind was rattled. She didn't know how to convert her melancholic musings into optimistic schemes. The blonde's heart pounded against her chest, a loud thrumming that was attuned to guilt and shame.

The comfort of sleep evaded Alice, and she started examining the spacious chambers, inspecting every square foot. The living quarters were vast and wide, furniture at each corner. Walls had been painted with a glossy coating, elegant and flawless. A couple of beautiful candelabras rested on the polished surface of a rosewood table. Such plentiful wealth, riches that Alice used to think could only exist in dreams. Drizella Tremaine belonged in this luxurious environment, full of scrumptious caviar and shimmering champagne.

Two girls, polarizingly distinguishable personalities, both Alice and Drizella had permanently imprinted their mark on each other's soul. The blonde's heart was saturated with Drizella's love, a suffocating burden. It didn't matter how much the raven-haired sorceress cared for Alice, the ambition to cast a dark curse wedged an immeasurable barrier between them.

In Drizella's perspective, no one else deserved the gift of true love, it was a privilege that she would strip away from everybody in the realm, sparing only Alice and herself. Avarice. Wrath. Gluttony. Lust. Apathy. Pride. Envy. The brunette accumulated sins like other people collected ancient artifacts. Alice had to intervene somehow. She couldn't permit Drizella to tarnish the universe in order to obtain vindication against her negligent mother.

Lady Tremaine, the cruel woman was the source of Drizella's torment. She broke her youngest daughter's spirit, reduced the raven-haired girl into a bunch of fragments, shattered pieces that Alice couldn't glue back together. Parental love, a force that molds a person's moral values and ethical principles, Drizella had been deprived of the affection, Lady Tremaine's most unforgivable crime. Thievery. Deception. Murder. Alice might forgive all kinds of heinous transgressions, but the damage done on Drizella's heart, that would never earn atonement.

Perhaps being raised by a pirate gave Alice a particular set of skills, amongst those, the ability to deceive and outwit. According to legends, true love's kiss could break a dark affliction. Drizella aimed to make it impossible for the inhabitants of her new world to experience the sentiment. The pretty witch wanted Alice to be with her when she invoked the sinister hex, implementing magical countermeasures that were going to make the two young women immune to the insomniac effects and physical restrictions of the incantation. If Alice left Drizella's side, the spell might alter the blonde's mental state, but their romantic interactions would become a remedy against the curse. She had to trust in the strength of the raven-haired girl's feelings for her.

An unimaginable gamble, Alice was using herself as bait, hoping that Drizella's love could overcome her thirst for revenge. The blonde had placed unwavering faith in the notion that she and Drizella were soulmates, destined for one another. If Alice fell under the curse's influence, Drizella would have no choice but to remove the bewitchment.

Tired of staring up at empty space, Alice flipped around on the mattress, deciding that the exquisite dark-haired girl resting next to her would serve as a better scenery. After a sequence of strenuous activities, Drizella had fallen into a deep slumber, lying naked on her stomach. The blonde wore her out, that much was certain, but Drizella proved to be a proficient learner; most of Alice's muscles ached, and the area between her legs felt pleasantly sore.

Half-covered by the bedsheets, Drizella inhaled and exhaled softly, snuggling into a pillow. The glimmering rays from the waning moon illuminated her alabaster skin, giving Drizella an ethereal glow. Alice perched against her side, elbow propped up with one arm, she relished the alluring view. The blonde's free hand trailed her fingertips across the exposed flesh, committing every inch of Drizella's figure to memory. A birthmark under the brunette's right breast became Alice's area of interest. The dark blemish, a part of Drizella that no one else had been allowed to see. Alice took her time, studying the panorama of Drizella's body as if it were an indescribable art piece. Freckles adorned the raven-haired girl's back, specks that resembled the stars on a constellation.

Beneath Alice's adventurous hands, Drizella stirred, grumbling as intrusive fingers brushed across her ribcage. An adorable snore emerged out of Drizella's nostrils. Instead of flinching away from Alice's touch, the smaller girl scooted nearer. She was seeking out Alice, craving the young woman's warmth. Drizella rolled closer to the blonde, muttering a muffled statement that couldn't be deciphered. Tracing along the brunette's jawline, Alice's heart struggled with her decisions.

Untangling her body from Drizella's clingy bare limbs, Alice sat upright, shifting toward the edge of the bed. Nothing would ever change their feelings for one another. A fundamental concept, elementary as the sun being yellow and the grass being green, Alice loved Drizella, it was as uncomplicated as that. Tears glistened at the corners of the blonde's eyes, these inner speeches weren't alleviating the gaping hole in her soul.

The cold atmosphere in the room glazed upon Alice's exposed skin, a shiver went down the her spine. She spotted her clothes laying on the floor, next to the foot of the bed. The exquisite gown, Drizella's conjured gift for Alice, had reverted back to an ordinary dress, indicating the limits of the dark-haired sorceress magic. Alice reached for the garments, haphazardly lacing up her bodice. 

After tying her boots, the blonde loitered on the border of the mattress, reluctant to leave but unwilling to stay. Her hand reached out for Drizella, fingers intertwining into a mess of tangled tresses. Alice leaned over the unconscious girl, slowly tucking a loose wisp of raven hair behind her ear. She caressed Drizella's cheek, admiring the brunette's face one final time. Alice shamelessly surveyed the young woman's perfectly sculpted figure. Every proportional limb, each impeccable curve, Drizella Tremaine was a flawless work of art, a masterpiece that should be safeguarded in a temple. 

“I promise that we’ll have a happy ending. You won't see it that way at first but this is for your own good. I refuse to let you become a raging monster.” Alice whispered, placing a tender peck on the brunette's forehead, "I love you, Drizella Tremaine. More so than my own happiness, and because of that, I have to go. I need to save your soul. This curse, the revenge, the hatred, it will all consume you, and I, I can't let that happen."

Alice's thumb grazed over Drizella’s mouth, a gesture that seemed hollow. Cerulean eyes swelling with unshed tears, she tried to maintain her composure. Bowing down, Alice captured Drizella’s lips gently, kissing the dark-haired girl for a brief second before pulling back. 

The blonde stood up abruptly from the bed, creeping toward the exit. Dragging both feet, with each step, Alice inflicted a pang of excruciating pain onto her chest as she abandoned Drizella. _The ends justifies the means._ The brunette's soul, it could be salvaged, Alice repeated the phrases inside her mind, fruitless words that were supposed to ease her remorse.

A congested throat, a sniffling nose, Alice couldn't stop crying. Cool droplets trickled down across her neck. The golden-haired girl's pale skin was flushed, reddened blotches decorated the area around her collar. It felt as if Alice's heart had taken a pause from beating, yearning for the moment when she returned to Drizella's side, and only then would the stubborn organ resume with its palpitations.

Despite all of the brunette's faults and cracks, Alice's devotion would never falter. Hand pressed to her chest, Alice produced soothing circles with a palm, an attempt to alleviate her own discomfort. She promised to wait for Drizella, no matter how long it took. Absence made the heart grow fonder, a statement that Alice had read somewhere. Now more than ever, the blonde recalled all the novels and books that she used to study, remembering their lessons. A single similarity, each story suffered from the same distinctive trait; endings were always the saddest parts.


	46. Malevolent Visions

Chapter 46

Malevolent Visions

* * *

 

Mankind has often analyzed dreams, trying to find a correlation between the images generated when we are sleeping and the events that transpire in our lives afterwards. The scientific community even uses the term oneirology, to denote an entire branch of research that is devoted to the study of dreams. Psychologists, scholars, philosophers, thousands of educated and intellectual individuals dedicate their lives to understanding the significance of dreams.

In spite of all the years invested, the countless centuries humans have spent sleeping and developing pictures in the back of their eyelids, no one has been able to rationalize dreams thus far, and any meaningful message derived from them is up for interpretation. Some dreams are simply forgotten, discarded as the sleep-induced ramblings of an overstressed mind. Other dreams leave a lingering impression, a foreboding feeling that isn't easy to dispel, malevolent visions known as nightmares.

As the negative counterparts of dreams, nightmares are lengthy, elaborate conceptions, laced with scenes that evoke fear, anxiety, or sadness. The dreamer may wake up to avoid the perceived danger. Nightmares can be remembered, and could lead to difficulties returning to sleep or even cause daytime distress. Isolated nightmares are normal, but when dreams that bring extreme terror recur often, they might be the ominous symptom of an underlying condition.

Perpetual darkness filled the narrow space, six metallic sides formed a shipping container, a makeshift residence without any windows. Located at a desolate warehouse, in the far outskirts of the city, the only pleasant feature that the train cart had was its serene and peaceful atmosphere. Silence enveloped the deserted area.

Through the pitch-black environment and quiet ambience, soft groans echoed across the compartment, rapidly escalating into mumbled phrases and choked sobs. These noises pried Tilly out of a profound sleep, reaching to the distant corners of the blonde's subconscious and waking her up with a jolt.

"Alice, p-please. D-Don't go." Ivy pleas reverberated against the iron walls, magnifying the volume of her voice.

A solid weight pressed upon Tilly's chest, cerulean eyes opened up drowsily, pupils adjusting themselves to comply with the absence of light. The muffled whimpers from Ivy persisted, subdued screams that frightened the golden-haired girl. Tilly felt the brunette quiver against her, thrashing uncontrollably as she slept.

Ivy's leg had been curled over Tilly's hips, a hand clutching into the taller girl's shirt. She grunted and cried, fingers coiled around the red fabric. Ivy's knuckles turned white due to the tightness of the grip, but although the brunette was asleep, she wouldn't loosen her hold on Tilly's clothing.

"Please, Alice. Don't l-leave me." Ivy murmured, "Alice, don't. No. P-Please..."

Unable to see the raven-haired girl and access her condition, Tilly shoved off the blankets. With one arm tucked under Ivy's waist, she hovered across the brunette to reach the shabby lamp that laid on top of a metal shelf. 

"Alice..." The name spilled from out of Ivy's lips.

The pads of Tilly's fingertips felt around for the switch, clicking the button, and dispersing the shadows. Yellow rays engulfed the bedroom, illuminating every single one of Ivy's many beautiful features, along with several troubling symptoms.

Chest rising and falling, sweat beaded on the raven-haired girl's forehead. Eyebrows scrunching up, she clenched her hands around the woolen blankets. Ivy tossed and turned against the sheets, her body flailing around. The brunette's ivory skin seemed paler than usual, both cheeks flushed and reddened.

Teeth grinding into each other, Ivy was trapped within an awful nightmare. She clawed at her blouse, the material soaked from perspiration. Despite being glossed and filed, Ivy's nails were sharp enough to inflict damage.

"Ivy, wake up. Please." Tilly begged, trailing a finger along the brunette's forehead, "Please, wake up. Don't worry, I'm here."

Ivy visibly flinched, a grimace developing across her face. Stuck in a feverish trance, the raven-haired girl might obtain an injure as she lashed out against imagined assailants, swing her arms around violently. Tilly sprang into action, committed to protecting Ivy from herself.

Straddling the young woman by the waist, Tilly seized both of Ivy's wrists, pinning them down on each side of her head. The blonde didn't know what to do, Ivy's tremors appeared to be worsening. 

"Ivy, please wake up. Please, Ivy." Tilly chanted, repositioning her hands on Ivy's neck, "Ivy, I'm here. Wake up. It's just a nightmare."

Releasing a loud gasp, the brunette regained her consciousness. A pair of distressed auburn eyes darted around. Ivy blinked a few times, startled by the unfamiliar surroundings. Wheezing hoarsely, her lungs strained themselves in search of air. After a couple of minutes, the initial shock wore off, and Ivy remembered where she was.

"T-Tilly?" Ivy stammered, raising up an arm, her fingers coiled around one of Tilly's wrists.

"Yes. I'm here, Ivy." Tilly cooed, her thumb brushed across the brunette's jawline, "I've got you."

Without warning, Ivy's lifted her back from off the cushion, wrapping both arms around Tilly's shoulders. She nestled her head against the nape of the taller girl's neck. The blonde resisted at first, surprised by the young woman’s spontaneous movement, but she slowly melted into the embrace. 

The raven-haired girl's tears didn’t stop, not as they soaked through Tilly's thin shirt and protruded onto her bare skin. Nevertheless, Tilly held Ivy warmly, graciously allowing the brunette to cry for as long as she needed to. 

Ivy fought back sobs, trying to restore a semblance of composure, but shudders shook throughout her body. The agitated young woman's breathing didn't steady. Drenched in a mixture of tears and sweat, Ivy's body continued shivering.

“Listen to me, Ivy.” Tilly whispered tenderly “Calm down. If you keep hyperventilating, you’ll never stop shaking or crying. Inhale and exhale. Please, breath with me."

Cradled in Tilly's strong arms, Ivy began to calm down. The blonde was humming gently, rocking herself back and forth, moving Ivy’s shaking body along. She drew soothing patterns on Ivy’s back, occasionally threading her fingers through the brunette's short, ebony curls. Ivy's respiratory system began to normalized, her tense muscles relaxed against the blue-eyed girl's breastbone. 

With Tilly's pulse under her ear, Ivy's eyelids fluttered shut, letting the blonde's particular fragrance wash over her. The rhythm of Tilly's heartbeat tamed Ivy's weary spirit, granting her soul some tranquility. She pulled back from the golden-haired girl's hug, wiping off the residual tears from her face.

Head throbbing with a dull ache, Ivy felt both nauseous and dizzy, the unfortunate side-effects of inebriation. Ivy had never been resilient when it came to digesting alcohol, consuming the substance didn't numb her feelings, it just sickened her stomach and invoked intolerable nightmares.

 _Alice_. A lasting impression had been scorched upon Ivy's skin, the image of the golden-haired girl was projected inside Ivy's mind. Alice's tender strokes, the taste of her lips, the pleasant sensation of the blonde's touch. The suffocating pressure settling itself across Ivy's chest, it became too much for the young woman to withstand.

"Are you okay, Ivy?" Tilly dared to ask, reclining back, crouching down on her knees.

Mouth twisting into a scowl, a spark of disdain flashed across the brunette's irises. Steeling herself, Ivy hated to be pitied. The other girl's concerned gaze was irritating her. Reconstructing an apathetic facade, Ivy staggered up on her feet. She brushed some hair tendrils from out of her eyes, patting down the wrinkled blouse.

"Yes, I'm fine. It was just a bad dream." Ivy lied casually, "Can you hand me my skirt?"

Tilly spotted the discarded item on the ground, next to her knee. She grabbed the garment and slowly rose up from off the floor, holding the skirt out for Ivy to retrieve. Tilly ventured to give the brunette a comforting smile, but she could deduce that the raven-haired girl was upset.

"I _have_ to go. I'm running late." Ivy quipped, snatching her overly expensive article of clothing.

Avoiding the blonde's scrutinizing stare, she slipped into her form-fitting skirt, flattening down the crumbled fabric. Ivy flicked her raven locks back, scanning around the small compartment until she found her handbag resting on a crooked shelf. Rummaging through its contents, Ivy located her mobile phone device. 

It was eight in the morning, an agitating discovery, as usual, Ivy had squandered too much precious time with Tilly. She browsed across the screen. A notification beeped, indicating a message from Henry Mills. The brown-haired man wanted to arrange a meeting, eager to initiate an investigation into Victoria Belfrey's suspicious affairs.

"Ivy..." Tilly took a step forward, "Did I do something wrong?" 

Tilly knew that Ivy was prone to erratic attitude shifts, but something about the brunette's behavior worried her. An icy demeanor, a frown on Ivy's face, Tilly despised this side of the dark-haired girl's personality. Misplaced anger, the coping mechanism that Ivy frequently used when she felt frustrated.

"No. I just have to go home and change." Ivy replied curtly, "I'll talk to you later."

Chewing on her bottom lip, even as she answered Tilly's question, Ivy refused to look at the blonde. Her explanation wasn't fictitious, she desperately required an extensive bath and a clean outfit. A layer of grime covered the dark-haired girl’s skin, her hygienic obligations weren't fabricated lies.

An ulterior motive loomed across Ivy's mind, painful memories of Alice, flooding into her overloaded psyche. Tilly, the cheerful girl who wore Alice's face. An outer shell, instilled with a more benevolent essence. Two sides of the same coin, Ivy had always been able to distinguish between one and the other, but her senses were distorted today. 

Lowering her head, Ivy shuffled past Tilly, sauntering toward the exit. She couldn't bear to be in the presence of golden-haired girl. The air in the enclosed confinement felt heavy, burdening a load onto the brunette's shoulders. Alice's identical effigy, Ivy needed to get away from Tilly.

"Wait!" Tilly cried out, lunging toward Ivy.

A hand captured Ivy's wrist, tugging at her arm. Stumbling on wobbly legs, she spun around to face Tilly. Pulling Ivy back, the blonde glided her fingers up the shorter girl's face. Between four knuckles and a thumb, Tilly cupped Ivy's chin firmly, forcing the young woman to glance in her direction.

"Ivy..." Tilly murmured softly, "Don't shut me out. Tell me, who is Alice?"

Eyes widening in fear, Ivy shrugged away from the blonde's touch. Terror painted across her face, she fiddled with the strap of her handbag. Alice. Simply hearing the name aloud sent a shiver down Ivy's spine. 

"A-Alice?" Ivy stuttered nervously.

"Yes. You cried out for her in your sleep. This isn't the first time either." Tilly nodded, "Is she your sister?"

Lips parted open, Ivy was at a loss for words. She couldn't believe that Alice still haunted her thoughts so thoroughly. The brunette had repressed those dreaded sentiments, burying them deep within, concealed beneath a fabricated persona. Ivy Belfrey, the elegant young woman who didn't depend on anyone, let alone suffer from a broken heart.

Azure eyes studied her face, searching for the truth. Tilly always managed to perceive her emotions, no matter how much the raven-haired girl strove to hide them. The blonde's fingers stayed curled around Ivy's wrist, unwilling to let her go.

"No. She's not my sister-" Ivy shook her head, taking a momentary pause, "But I _really_ am running late. I promise to tell you about her later, okay?"

Slithering fingers around the hand that had detained her wrist, Ivy brought the blonde's knuckles up to her mouth. She kissed the clenched joints, hoping to appease Tilly's curiosity, if only for a little while longer. Ivy would have tell Tilly who Alice was, although most of the facts were going to be tailored to fit the present reality.

Moved by the brunette's gesture, Tilly's lips pressed into a faint smile. She felt satisfied with Ivy's response, at least the young woman had promised to further discuss the topic. Minuscule fragments of honesty, it was progress. 

"Okay. But let me escort you to the parking lot." Tilly agreed, strolling toward the front of the intermodal container, "I need a ride back to town. A friend of mine is stuck at the hospital, and I'm sure that he'll appreciate a visit from me."

"Who wouldn't love your company?" Ivy grinned cheekily, but her statement sounded endearingly sincere, "I'll give you a lift."

"I don't know. Maybe I'll call Henry Mills. Heard that he was a taxi driver or something." Tilly teased.

"Swift driver. It's like being an Uber driver, only more pathetic." Ivy joked.

Giggles resonated across the transport container, Tilly found humor in Ivy's slightly cruel remark. Sliding a bolt out from the clasp, a rustic version of a lock, the blonde pushed the door open, holding out the steel panel. Unwelcomed sunbeams invited themselves in, brightening the interior of the encased compartment. Ivy winced, her pupils were irritated by the radiant glare. 

Covering her eyes with a fanned-out hand, Ivy walked out of the container, hearing Tilly fastened the door behind them. Once the entrance to the humble dwelling had been securely closed, the blonde went around Ivy and latched onto her arm. 

A glint of enthusiasm shimmered across two cerulean irises, ready to perform the role of a playful escort. With skip in her stride, Tilly dragged Ivy alongside her, navigating through the abandoned buildings and secluded alleyways, guiding the brunette toward her parked vehicle.

"The weather is uncharacteristically good. You never see such clear skies during this time of year..." Tilly's voice became distant as Ivy's focus dwindled.

The blonde began talking about the climate, a one-sided monologue that Ivy quickly tuned out in favor of appraising Tilly's profile. Golden curls blowing in the chilly wind, the citrus aroma that was known as the young woman's signature scent crept its way into Ivy's nostrils. 

Tilly had an aptitude for accommodating to Ivy's whimsical mood transitions. She granted the brunette with a sympathetic reprieve, never demanding the disclosure of sensitive information. Ivy was entitled to her privacy, and the other girl respected that. 

The irrefutable difference between Alice and Tilly, the young woman wearing ripped leggings and a scruffy red flannel shirt, she cared about Ivy, without restrictions or limitations. Tilly didn't judge the brunette, or felt the unwarranted need to establish controlling ultimatums. 

"That white, fluffy one. It looks like a curved tail..." Tilly pointed upward, but Ivy's eyes remained fixated on the blonde's unwavering smile.

Listening to Tilly's frivolous ramblings about how a certain cloud in the sky was shaped to resemble a squirrel, Ivy rested her head on the blonde's shoulder. She clasped her fingers around Tilly's muscular bicep, and a sense of normalcy fell between them. Roused by Tilly's unconditional comprehension, Ivy was determined to rid herself of Alice's ghost. Whatever evasive remnants of the phantasmal blonde lingering within Tilly would be cast out, one way or another.

The clock was ticking; the hours were fleeing away from Ivy. The foreboding torment of past increased, the hope for a better future receded, as possibilities decreased and regrets mounted. _Life can only be understood backwards; but it should be lived forwards._ An applicable philosophy, the brunette must set her final plan into motion, and preserve her relationship with Tilly, implementing measures that would remedy their platonic restraints. Conviction brimming from the depths of her soul, Ivy vowed to exorcise the vestigial demons that threatened her current attempts at happiness


	47. True Intentions

Chapter 47

True Intentions

* * *

 

Children are excellent judges of character, capable of seeing through hidden pretenses and concocted falsehoods. Their innocence serves as a penetrating filter, equipping the young beings with an intuitive vision. Petty lies, emotional manipulation, proficient deception, all forms of mental trickery are rendered useless against a child who has already witnessed an individual's true intentions.

As a relatively smart girl, Lucy Mills felt that she had been blessed with infinite wisdom. Her life was colored solely in shades of black and white, wrong and right. For a girl who claimed to have a boundless imagination, Lucy could often be close-minded. The prophet of a marvelous story, she viewed her parents as the flawless heroes, Victoria Belfrey as the sinister villain, and Ivy as an insignificant secondary fiend.

Bubbling with restless energy, Lucy sat outside Victoria Belfrey's office, lounging on an ivory couch in the center of the floor. Dressed in her pink ballet outfit, hair tied up in a perfect bun, the little girl's eyes wandered toward the receptionist desk from time to time, observing Ivy's aloof behavior. Lucy thought that her stepaunt was too inept to pose a real threat, she didn't seem to foster any sympathy toward the young woman.

Stationed at her usual spot, a sign that read 'Belfrey Developments' illuminating the background, Ivy performed the role that she had been assigned, the vapid and self-absorbed girl. Fixated on the screen of her mobile phone device, Ivy ignored her stepniece's inquisitive glare. Lucy joined an ever-growing list of people who underestimated the brunette's competence. 

Blue, Ivy noticed the sudden twinkle, the color that the tiny bulb on the left corner of her gadget flashes when a message from another mobile phone device had been transferred. Ivy grew curious, wondering who might be trying to reach her. She clicked on the corresponding button, opening up the application. Text appeared on the screen.

" _Borrowed this contraption from a good Samaritan. You left your leather jacket at my humble residence this morning. Meet me by the Aurora Bridge at seven in the afternoon. Reply quickly, I must give this bloody confusing thing back to its owner. Love, Tilly._ "

A soft giggle erupted from Ivy's throat, she swayed her head. Lips pressing together and generating a fond smile, the brunette's heart skipped a beat, flustered by a particular word on Tilly's message. Such a casual interaction, but somehow, anything that the golden-haired girl did was unbearably charming.

Thumb tapping against the side of her mobile phone device, Ivy initiated an inner debate with herself. She wanted to formulate a witty response, an adequate combination of humorous and endearing. Knowing that Lucy kept surveying her from across the room, Ivy tried to keep a neutral expression on her face, typing several buttons on the keyboard.

"Where's Grandma?" Lucy whined, turning to Ivy for an answer, "Ballet starts in ten minutes."

"Hush." Ivy held up her index finger, "I'm trying to find an annoyed babysitter emoji."

Rolling her eyes, Lucy turned away from Ivy, settling against the sofa's armrest. The little girl became clearly irritated, but Ivy couldn't possibly care less. The young woman's mind was cluttered with thoughts of Tilly, relishing their brief exchange of messages. For a second, Ivy engrossed herself in the illusion that she and Tilly were just an ordinary couple.

" _I hope that 'borrowed' doesn't actually mean 'stole.' I'll be running late, too many errands from my mother to get done. I am currently stuck baby-sitting Lucy. What a drag. Wait for me. Ivy._ "

Wearing a tweed blazer and a pair of form-fitting black pants, Ivy owned so many clothes, she hadn't even realized that her leather jacket was missing. Leaving the inconsequential garment at Tilly's dwelling proved to be a beneficial accident, Ivy yearned for an excuse to see the blonde.

A chime rang out across the lobby, the elevator dinged as its metallic doors slid along opposite sides and revealed a gorgeous woman. Ebony curls, a beautiful facial structure, plump lips, she entered the vicinity with a cheerful disposition. Princess Tiana in another life, here she was simply known as Sabine, a humble fry cook, Jacinda's roommate and friend. 

Being plagued by debt and poverty hadn't dwindled Sabine's regal demeanor. The raven-haired woman sauntered through the room, her head held up high, effortlessly oozing confidence with each step that she took. Staring at Sabine's attractive features, Ivy couldn't decide if she felt threatened or aroused.

"Aunt Sabine!" Lucy chirped with glee.

Feet landing on the ground, Lucy scurried across the room and threw her arms around Sabine. She greeted the dark-skinned woman with a tight hug, thrilled by Sabine's unexpected arrival.

"What are you doing here?" Lucy asked.

The young girl's eyes lit up, a wide smile spread across her face. Referring to the woman as 'Aunt Sabine' with a genuine tone of affection. Ivy had never received such a warm welcome from Lucy, and as a pang of jealous struck the brunette's chest, she tried to pretend that the realization wasn't saddening her.

"Excellent question." Ivy interjected bitterly, "You know, this is a private property, so unless you've risen up in the world from fry cook, you don't belong here."

From across the room, Sabine gave Ivy an exasperated look, unimpressed by the younger brunette's snippy remarks. A challenging smirk adorned Sabine's face as she held up a brown paper bag.

"I just came to give Lucy this." Sabine addressed Ivy curtly, before glancing back at Lucy.

Accepting the grease-stained package, Lucy didn't waste time on opening Sabine's offering. Several flaky pastries laid at the bottom of the bag, pockets of sweetened bread, brimming with a thick coat of powdered sugar.

"Your famous beignets!" Lucy announced.

Sugar-coated beignets, the delicate treats reminded Ivy of a certain blonde. Biting her lower lip, the dark-haired woman dispersed the romantic musings. She couldn't afford to look like a lovestruck idiot in the presence of her enemies.

"They're not nearly as fun to make without my favorite taste tester." Sabine cooed, smiling warmly at Lucy.

Two sets of arms stretching out, seeking a second embrace, Lucy snuggled against Sabine's chest. Such a pointless display of triteness, Ivy grimaced. Envy, a familiar sentiment. She hated how her stepniece showered Sabine with so much nauseating love. 

A loud ringing noise drew Ivy's attention away from Sabine and Lucy. The elevator doors opened once again, the steel slabs moved along their rails in an ominous fashion. Victoria Belfrey strolled out of the transportation device, a glint of purpose gleamed across her cobalt irises.

Hips swaying with each step, heels clinking against the hard floor, the short-haired woman marched up to Ivy's desk, a sheet of paper in her hand. In typical fashion, Victoria wore a smug grin on her face.

"Mother, I've been trying to get a hold of you for the last hour." Ivy inquired, "Where have you been?"

"Funny, here I thought you worked for me." Victoria quipped, placing the piece of parchment on Ivy's desk, "Run along to the herbalist and pick up a few things."

Mouth contorting into a scowl, the brunette took offense at Victoria's condescending comment, until she read the note that had been allocated in front of her. Ivy recognized the names of the herbs listed on the slip of paper. Ingredients for a special concoction, a brew that only one person would be interested in.

"The herbalist?" Ivy feigned ignorance, "Are you doing a cleanse without me?"

"Now, Ivy." Victoria managed to make her daughter's name sound like an insult, "Try less whimpering and more scampering."

Slowly lifting herself from off the chair, Ivy gave a theatrical performance, behaving as if she were a petulant child whose mother had assigned her a daunting task to accomplish. Dragging both feet, the raven-haired girl grabbed her handbag. As Ivy trudged toward the elevators, she overheard Victoria confronting Sabine.

"Sabine, what a coincidence." Victoria sneered, "I was just talking about you."

"You were?" Sabine responded, "Why?"

"I was going over your rental agreement." Victoria informed the dark-haired woman, "And I've decided to increase your rent eight percent, starting this month." 

"You know we can't afford that." Sabine rebutted.

"Given the booming neighborhood, I could ask for double." Victoria smirked, "Consider it a family discount."

Walking through the iron doors, the argument between Sabine and Victoria continued on as the brunette entered the elevator. Ivy became too engrossed with her own ruminations, uninterested in deciphering the two women's useless chatter. 

Clutching the foreboding paper with one hand, a mixture of excitement and anxiety churned around her stomach. Ever since the dark curse was invoked, Ivy had been anticipating this moment, patiently biding her time.

A signal amongst allies, the person who had requested those herbs from Victoria knew that the blue-eyed woman would order Ivy to fetch them. The final stage of a sinister strategy had been shifted into motion. Although the best-laid plans of mice and men often went awry, the saying did not apply to the schemes concocted by sorceresses and witches.

* * *

The narrow corridors in the hospital were crowded. Nurses, doctors, technicians, ran throughout the medical center, catering to every patient's needs. An underlying scent of bleach infested the ambience. The walls had been covered with a bright coat of white paint, but scruff marks tarnished the glossy veneer at countless sections, places where hundreds of trolleys and gurneys must have bumped against them. 

In the recovery ward, the atmosphere appeared to be completely different. The air had a perfumed scent, every surface was dustless, all the staff members maneuvered around the hallways at a moderate pace. The environment had been furnished with pleasant decorations, vases full of flowers laid on every patient's nightstand.

The dripping noise emitted from the bag of saline fluids echoed across the private room. Liquids flowed through the intravenous tube attached to Detective Weaver's arm, injecting the man with the precious medication and electrolytes that his body needed in order to quicken the healing process.

The steady rising and falling of the police officer's chest, beeping sounds from the cardiac monitor, indicating that he was alive. Detective Weaver laid in a regenerative slumber, sprawled across a small bed. His injuries had been inflicted by Tilly, a fact that motivated her to be here, sitting on an uncomfortable chair. Minutes ticked away, waiting for the brown-haired man to regain consciousness. 

A leather black jacket, neatly folded over Tilly's lap.  _Wait for me._ She remembered Ivy's message. Flicking her wrist, the blonde checked the time, a scruffy watch indicated that she still had a couple of hours left until her scheduled rendezvous with Ivy. Given the circumstances surrounding Detective Weaver's shot gun wound, Tilly was indebted, forced to stay by his bed.

Overwhelmed by guilt and shame, Tilly reached out, her fingers coiling around Detective Weaver's cold hand. The blonde was grateful to the older man, if it hadn't been for his declaration to the authorities, she would be imprisoned at the county jail, or internalized in some mental asylum. He not only claimed that Tilly shot him accidentally, but also used his influence to prevent any further investigation.

From what Tilly knew, the man didn't have any known relatives, his blue-eyed partner, Detective Rogers had been the only other person who bothered to visit him. Such a depressing thought, to find yourself alone on a hospital bed. Tilly hated the idea, so she took it upon herself to ensure that the police officer was welcomed to the land of the living with a warm smile.

Lost in a self-deprecating contemplation, Tilly's eyes stayed focused the lunch tray that a nurse had delivered earlier. A plain bread sandwich, filled with peanut-butter and grape jam, accompanied by a red apple and a cup of lime gelatin. A rather low-quality meal, Tilly highly doubted its overall nutritional value.

"Belle..." Detective Weaver muttered in his sleep, "Belle, d-don't leave me."

A repetitive scene, Tilly couldn't help but wonder if everyone that she knew had a mysterious girl to subconsciously cry out for. Resentment lingered within Tilly's heart. _Alice._ She already loathed the woman. Anyone who would cause Ivy so much pain deserved Tilly's unyielding disdain.

Whimpered pleas interrupted Tilly's fuming thoughts, Detective Weaver's muffled ramblings paralleled Ivy's recent behavior. Fingers involuntarily clenched around Tilly's hand, he tightened his grip briefly, before letting go.

Eyes fluttering open, the brown-haired man stirred awake. Groaning and wincing, he sat upright, blinking as his pupils modified to the fluorescent lighting that illuminated the facility. Head twisting to the side, Detective Weaver spotted Tilly. She grinned at him, thrilled to see that he was feeling better.

"Tilly?" Detective Weaver acknowledged the blonde with a gentle tone.

Awkwardly fumbling around on the cot, Detective Weaver adjusted his posture, upholding a certain level of decor, even if he was wearing a flimsy hospital gown. The corners of the man's mouth contorted slightly, gracing his face with a ghost of a smile.

"Glad to see that you're feeling better." Tilly grinned, "The nurse brought you a lunch tray, but I reckon that it might be molded by now."

Eliciting a faint chuckle from the typically stern police officer, Tilly could deduce that the man was actually happy to see her. Tentatively approaching the plate, he peeled open the sandwich, disgusted by the sticky peanut-butter and jelly mixture. Turning his attention toward the gelatin cup, Detective Weaver inspected the container, forehead wrinkling up pensively.

"Lime." Detective Weaver frowned, "I'm not much of a fan."

Tilting her head, Tilly smirked, a glint of mischief sparkled across the blonde's cerulean irises. Stuffing a hand into one of her pockets, she pulled out two gelatin cups. Orange, with an eponymous fruity taste. Red, supposedly strawberry-flavored. 

"Orange or strawberry?" Tilly waved the plastic containers in front of the older man.

"You sneaky little rascal." Detective Weaver snickered, "How did you manage to steal these?"

"I didn't steal them." Tilly shrugged innocently.

Quirking an eyebrow upward, Detective Weaver glared at Tilly with amusement, suspecting that the precocious girl had procured the sugary treats in some deceptive manner. The blonde conceded, running her fingers sheepishly through a bundle of unruly curls before she confessed.

"I shamelessly flirted with the nurse." Tilly admitted, winking at the perceptive man.

Releasing a wistful sigh, Detective Weaver shook his head. He relented a toothy grin, the man's spirits had been lifted by Tilly's silly antics.

"I'll take the strawberry one." Detective Weaver nodded.

"Then orange for me it is!" Tilly stated enthusiastically. 

Bursting into a fit of giggles, Tilly tossed the red cup, smiling as the police officer captured the treat during its mid-flight. An unreadable emotion glimmered across his dark eyes, as if he were truly meeting Tilly for the first time.

Lifting up the container, Detective Weaver bowed his head, making a celebratory toast with gelatin, a playful gesture that Tilly eagerly mimicked. A tender sensation swelled up in the golden-haired girl's heart, proud that she was at least entertaining the older man in some way. 

Deep within the pits of her soul, Tilly knew that she owed Detective Weaver a lot more than a meager apology, but the blonde couldn't convey her sentiments through mere swords. Sharing a laugh with the enigmatic man, relishing his newfound affection for her, Tilly accepted that feelings didn't need to be verbalize at all.


	48. Problematic Vulnerabilities

Chapter 48

Problematic Vulnerabilities

* * *

 

Eerie silence filled the desolate floor, a maze of corners and corridors. Faint illuminated shined upon the room, engulfing the large chamber with an orange glow. Each step resonated across the vicinity, the tapping of a plastic heel against a hard surface, a sound that echoed throughout the darkness of the vast empty space.

Electric panels decorated the walls, green and red buttons blinked across the metallic encasement. Visible pipes and wires could be seen protruding from the ceiling. At the far end of the main hallway, a huge axial fan spiraled around slowly, the propeller rotated behind a steel ventilation board, creating a fluttering shimmering pattern of twinkles and silhouettes. Cluttered by the unidentifiable machinery, the atmosphere was polluted with a musty odor, an aromatic blend of rust and mildew.

A restricted section, hidden near the rooftop of the Belfry Towers. Using Victoria's special key, the secret quarters were accessible by elevator. Stepping out through the sliding doors, Ivy found herself standing in the middle of an abandoned confinement. She wandered into the despondent premises, the room was designed to look like a maintenance area, a cleverly fabricated charade.

"Well, hello." A female voice crooned, "My dear, Ivy Belfrey, always on cue."

From amongst the shadows, a haggard woman sauntered into the light. Wearing a burgundy robe, a mane of tawny hair cascaded below her waist. Unkempt and dirty, the long tresses framed a moderately attractive face. She possessed an alluring pair of cerulean irises, colored with a familiar shade of blue.

"Mother Gothel." Ivy greeted curtly, "Or is it, Eloise Gardner?"

"Whichever one suits me the most." The older woman laughed, "So, you understood my message."

"Yes, it was quite ingenious." Ivy commended Eloise's resourcefulness.

"Hm." Eloise tilted her head, scrutinizing Ivy's demeanor.

There was something strangely gentle about the young woman's disposition, as if she had been tamed. Eloise grew concerned, Ivy ought to be completely focused on the task at hand. Certain plans must be implemented in a proper sequence, and for that to happen, the dark curse had to be protected at all costs. 

Ivy might become the weak link in chain, liable to unraveling Eloise's grand scheme. A dangerous concept, the woman did not want to allow any more problematic vulnerabilities. A foreboding countermeasure already threatened Eloise's ambition. True love, such a pesky form of benign magic. Henry and Jacinda could not share a kiss, the consequences would be devastating. Ivy's head must remain clear, Eloise needed to be sure that the young brunette was willing to seduce Henry, if the situation called for it.

"Do our naive heroes trust you yet?" Eloise approached Ivy, staring into the raven-haired girl's brown eyes.

"Not yet." Ivy replied, rattled by Eloise's unwavering gaze.

Realizing that Eloise was gauging her conviction, the brunette needed to emphasize her dedicated stance. Eager to prove herself, Ivy concocted a plan, a way of earning Henry's trust. She gave Eloise a lopsided smirk, trying to exhibit confidence and poise.

"I have an idea though." Ivy folded her arms, "And I am going to require your assistance."

"Oh?" Eloise craned her head to the side, patronizing the young woman.

"I need you to hide, because I am going to bring Henry up here, to this forbidden floor." Ivy stated nonchalantly, "And I am going to make sure that he finds this photograph, and shows it to Regina."

Reaching into the pocket of her dark-grey blazer, Ivy procured a picture. Depicted on the glossy sheet, an image of young Henry Mills, smiling alongside his mother, Regina, the town of Storybrooke laid in the background. Ivy couldn't stifle a frown, the portrait of a child standing next to a loving parent sickened her stomach with envy.

"And if Regina remembers..." Ivy trailed off, enabling Eloise to deduce the conclusion.

"Then she'll have no choice but to help us prevent Henry and Ella from sharing true love's kiss." Eloise completed Ivy's thought with a smug grin, "That's quite astute, my dear."

Eloise snatched the photograph from out of Ivy's fingers. She surveyed the picture, evidently pleased with the brunette's idea. Despite the woman's cordial behavior, her affection for Ivy seemed hollow and false.

Armed with a deceivingly sweet smile, the blue-eyed woman's palm glided onto Ivy's face, thumb stroking the raven-haired girl's cheek. Even though the caress was not unpleasant, Ivy's instincts persuaded her to shrug off Eloise's hand.

"Thanks." Ivy shuffled away from the older woman, "Now, I have to get going."

As Ivy made a motion to leave, fingers coiled around her arm. Rendered powerless against Eloise's strong grip, the brunette relented, turning back toward the golden-haired woman. Two cobalt irises gleamed with suspicion, inspecting Ivy's facial features.

"Dear, there's something different about you. It's almost as if- " Eloise paused, keenly observing Ivy's reaction, "Are you still fully committed to the coven?"

A flicker of fear sparkled within Ivy's brown eyes. If she didn't respond quickly, the other woman might notice her internal conflict. Alice or Tilly, regardless of the name, the golden-haired girl was Ivy's chance at obtaining happy ending, The brunette refused to let Eloise ruin the only decent thing that had ever happened in her entire miserable life. 

"Of course." Ivy grunted, "Now stop wasting my time, and make sure to hide. Henry can't see you."

Roughly jerking her arm away from Eloise's grasp, Ivy hoped that an act of aggression would quell the woman's doubts about her commitment to the cause. The brunette twisted her mouth into a frustrated scowl, overcompensating with anger. Eloise was oddly perceptive, she must conceal her feelings for Tilly.

Scoffing in annoyance, Ivy flipped back her short curls as she pivoted around. She marched off toward the elevator, not sparing Eloise another glance. Behaving in an overly aggressive manner, the theatrics were convincing enough to dissuade Eloise from further questioning where the raven-haired girl's allegiances lied.

Witches, aspiring to sequester immeasurable amounts of magic. Eloise stayed faithful to the goal, she would never understand why Ivy's priorities had shifted. Although their interests continued to be aligned, the brunette was fueled by a different motivation.

Love, a force that she held in polarizing veneration, simultaneously condemning and worshiping the sentiment. For as much as Ivy wanted to hinder the incorruptible energy, when her wayward thoughts drifted toward Tilly, the young sorceress longed for the power to liberate both the blonde and herself from the loveless world that she had designed.

* * *

Tall shelves made of polished wood were lined up along the walls, the smell of condiments and spices lingered throughout the air. An enormous assortment of merchandise could be found at the establishment, meticulously organized across the aisles. Endowed with a small bakery, the facility lured customers in by offering the promise of a fresh, scrumptious pastry.

Full of people, the rustic supermarket was popular amongst the residents of Seattle, a perfect place to buy normal groceries, as well as specialized goods. Racks brimming with products that were considered rare and difficult to find, the store appeared capable of accommodating any individual's needs.

A long table served as the designated location for the herbal selection. Eucalyptus leaves. Passion flowers. Valerian roots. Such an adequate variety of dried herbs, held in round containers and sold by the pound at a fixed price. Ivy crossed each item from off the paper that Victoria had given her. Even if the list was Eloise's particular way of sending a signal flare, an errand delegated by Victoria Belfrey must be completed, Ivy's mother wouldn't accept any excuses.

Scooping up some catnip leaves from a bowl and stuffing them in her plastic bag, Ivy lowered her gaze, assessing the contents, all  four ingredients had been acquired. As she recounted the herbs, her vision suddenly became clouded. Two hands covered Ivy's eyes, warm breath blowing against the back of the brunette's neck, tickling her skin.

"Hello, Miss Ivy Belfrey." A cheerful voice hummed in Ivy's ear, making the raven-haired girl's name sound like a melody.

A sincere smile spread across Ivy's face, she could hardly suppress the elation simmering across her chest. The brunette spun around on a heel, eager to meet the gorgeous set of cerulean irises that she knew would be staring down at her with affection. 

"Hi, Tilly." Ivy chirped excitedly, failing to disguise the happiness that the sight of Tilly stirred within her.

Always surpassing Ivy's expectations, Tilly grinned exuberantly, dropping her arms and boldly placing both palms over the brunette's hips. Tilly pulled the smaller girl closer, until their bodies were merely inches apart. A brazen move, she didn't know how receptive Ivy would be to public displays of affection.

One hand holding the bag of Victoria's requested herbs, the other wrapping around the bottom of Tilly's flannel shirt, Ivy did not shy away from the blonde's proximity. Nostrils inhaling a soothing orange scent, Ivy's fingers fiddled with the thin garment, sheepishly relishing the sedative effect that Tilly's presence had on her.

"So, does your mother solely live on a diet of rare and disgusting herbs?" Tilly teased, bobbing her head down toward the bag in Ivy's possession, "Or is she truly a full-blown witch?"

A giggle spilled out from Ivy's lips, the irony of Tilly's comment did not go by undetected. The brunette leaned, her face nearing the taller girl's mouth. She felt playful, and Tilly loved games and riddles.

"What if _I'm_  the witch?" Ivy smirked mischievously, a joke that was more honest than most of her well-constructed statements.

"Then I'll be your loyal servant." Tilly replied, moving one of her hands from Ivy's waist to cradle the brunette's cheek.

The perfect response to a question that didn't even require a correct answer. Chuckling lovingly at Tilly's naive, but passionate declaration, Ivy nuzzled her face against the blonde's soft palm. A calming sensation washed over the dark-haired girl, Tilly's touch alleviated Ivy's anxiety, appeasing the demons that haunted her.

"I've m-missed you." Ivy bit her bottom lip bashfully, "So much."

Tilly's facial muscles contorted into a worried grimace, mouth concaving and eyebrows furrowing. She released Ivy's face, repurposing her hand to tuck a loose raven curl behind the brunette's ear. Tilly's supportive silence compelled Ivy to explain herself.

"It's just that- I've had an awful day. My mother acts like I'm garbage and you are the only person who treats me like their first priority." Ivy admitted, "I-I'm just really glad that I ran into you, I needed to know that I matter to someone."

"You will always be my first priority, Ivy. And I'll always be here for you." Tilly smiled, making a proclamation that she could never ensure.

Countless emotions cycled across the brunette's auburn irises, pupils dilated, throat congested. Ivy tried to regulate her breathing, but listening to Tilly's vow, she became overwhelmed by all aggravating events that had transpired throughout the day.

The blonde's coddling phrases pierced into Ivy's brittle mask, shattering the young woman's attempts to repress her insecurities and flaws. She threw both arms over Tilly's shoulders, burying her face against the crook of the taller girl's neck. Not hesitating for a second, Tilly reciprocated the gesture, adjusting an arm around Ivy’s waist, and entangling her other hand within a bundle of ebony locks.

Ivy clung to the blonde's blouse longer than she probably should have, but Tilly didn’t think anything of it, understanding that the raven-haired girl needed this hug, predisposed to giving Ivy whatever she desired. Tilly would gladly renounce her own soul, provided that it aided Ivy in some fashion.

Embracing one another tightly, no words were exchanged between Tilly and Ivy, the steady thumping of each other's heart could be heard, overpowering the noises reverberating across the store. Ivy snuggled into Tilly's chest, acknowledging that only the rhythmic pounding of the blonde's pulse could drown out all of her incessant concerns.

After several minutes, the two young women broke apart. Noting a glimmer of sadness falling upon Ivy's face, Tilly winked at the brunette, smiling reassuringly and dissipating the heavy tension.

"Remember, we have a date later." Tilly reminded her, "See, I don't have your leather jacket here with me, I just came in to grab a fresh pastry from the bakery. This place sells the best jelly-filled doughnuts."

"How about this, I'll treat you to one of nasty cholesterol-invested confectioneries, and you can try to convince me to take a bite?" Ivy offered, unable to dilute her enthusiasm.

"Deal!" Tilly nodded, reaching down to commandeer Ivy's hand.

Taking full advantage of Ivy's amicable mood, the blonde intertwined their fingers together, tugging the young woman alongside her. It was an unprecedented occurrence, Ivy had willingly suggested the consumption of carbohydrates.

A precious moment between the two girls, standing in the middle of a supermarket, surrounded by people shopping for groceries, Ivy felt both isolated and encompassed from the weight of her future actions. The contact between their clasped hands represented a reprieve, balancing out Ivy's own burden with the golden-haired girl’s whimsical freedom. 

Sensing Ivy's personal turmoil, Tilly brushed a thumb slowly over the raven-haired girl's clenched knuckles. Initiating a transfer of power, Ivy drew strength from Tilly, fortifying her resolve to fight for the relationship that she had developed with the blonde. Whoever dared to oppose Ivy would be confronted by the unstoppable wrath that the young sorceress was proven more than capable of invoking.


	49. Tangible Remnants

Chapter 49

Tangible Remnants

* * *

 

By general definition, an assistant is a person who helps with time and daily management, schedules meetings, tends to correspondence, and runs mundane errands. These people provide a wide variety of services that relieve an employer from having to complete such trivial chores themselves. 

Most individuals appreciated the work that their diligent aides did, valuing the importance of having someone who performs the repetitive labor, but Victoria Belfrey appeared to be an exception. She rarely treated Ivy with respect or dignity, a notion only made worse by the fact that the young brunette was also her daughter.

Walls covered with a thin, wooden material, overly expensive ornaments decorated the room. Paintings, lamps, vases, everything had been selected by Ivy, arranged in the enormous suite to please her mother's exquisite taste. Victoria sat at a large polished desk, as if she were a queen, lounging on her throne. Beneath the elegant atmosphere, a foreboding aura infected the vicinity. 

Sauntering across the main lobby, heels stomping against the hard surface, Ivy entered her mother's office. Holding a plastic bag full of the requested herbs in one hand, gripping her mobile phone device in the other, Ivy approached Victoria with a playful attitude.

 "I had to go to three different herbalists and a sanctimonious hipster." Ivy placed the bundle on her mother's desk, "Now I'm tragically behind on my e-mails, and my hair smells like I just got back from Burning Man."

The brunette's eyes remained fixated on the handheld gadget's screen, browsing through contracts and documents. Paperwork for an executive representative at Belfrey Developments, Ivy had so much bureaucratic tasks to accomplish, and Victoria couldn't care less.

Without showing even the tiniest bit of gratitude, Victoria grabbed the bag and stood up from her chair. She strolled across the room, feet gliding along the floor. Ivy had to admit, the woman's mannerisms were regal and graceful, exhibiting the same prestigious demeanor as a queen.

"I'm not remotely interested in your travails." Victoria sneered.

Victoria headed toward the elevator, pressing the button on the iron panel. Ivy hated that she wanted the woman to glance at her. After all these years, a part of Ivy still longed for her mother's approval.

"Mother, where are you going with those?" Ivy feigned ignorance, trailing behind her mother.

"Where I'm going is none of your business. And enough complaining." Victoria turned around to face her daughter, "Don't think for a second that I wouldn't trade in my own daughter for an actual assistant. It's time you shut up and earn your job title." 

A loud ding resonated through the main lobby as Victoria spoke. Ending the berating speech by giving her daughter a look of utter contempt, Victoria stepped inside the elevator. She glared at Ivy as the metallic doors closed shut, as if the raven-haired girl was an absolute disappointment.

Watching the elevator depart, Ivy scurried toward the receptionist desk. She flopped onto her chair, using the computer to view the video feed of all the security cameras in the building. Ivy saw her mother using the special key to access the forbidden floor, preparing the herbs for Eloise.

Typing a few keys on her mobile phone device, Ivy made a call. Henry's voicemail system responded, and the brunette initiated another phase of her plan. Flirting with the brown-haired man was thrilling, she loved the attention. It made Ivy feel powerful and in control, a sentiment that Victoria often stripped away from her.

Being able to seduce Henry gave the young woman a rush of adrenaline. Her insecurities and faults faded away, she wore a mask that Henry couldn't see through. Confident and charming, Ivy pretended to be someone else with him, an independent girl who didn't have so many cracks.

"Henry, it's Ivy. Call me back if you still want dirt on my mother." Ivy stated, "I have a pretty good idea where to start."

After the message finished being recorded, guilt slowly crept into her chest. The brunette knew that enamoring Henry should feel wrong, a betrayal to someone who truly deserved a lot better than Ivy Belfrey, but she was stressed. The platonic nature of her physical interactions with Tilly had become sexually frustrating.

The raven-haired girl must negate the effects of the dark curse, before her own lust jeopardize the relationship that she had with the blonde. To Ivy's great fortune, events were beginning to occur according to plan. She would soon possess the power to overcome any obstacle that stood in her path.

Head leaning to the side, a pensive smirk developed on the brunette's face. Ivy pressed the gadget against her chin, contemplating the promise of a future without Victoria's belittling comments and where she didn't have to abstain from indulging in Tilly's affection. The games that Ivy was forced to play had begun to take a toll, pushing the young woman beyond the limits of her emotional fortitude.

* * *

Credit cards are a recently modern invention, a concept that has been around for barely sixty years. A small plastic tablet, granted to individuals and enabling them to make purchases from a merchant in exchange products. The user makes a promise to the issuer, agreeing to return the amount of money loaned, and other incremental fees. 

In other words, these special objects combine payment services with extensions of credit, hence the aptly given name. Many security measures are set in place to obstruct thieves from stealing a person's card, tracking implementations that alert the authorities when one is stolen.

The consequences of progress, people hardly carried paper currency anymore. Tilly's pickpocketing excursions were producing less than favorable results. Suffering from a change of perspective, the blonde didn't have a lot of enthusiasm for larceny.

Her meager lifestyle, a history of troublesome outbursts, being a transient vagabond, none of that was good enough for Ivy Belfrey, and Tilly had never desired anything as much as she wanted to be worthy of the raven-haired girl's time.

Trudging along the sidewalk, Tilly considered her options. She might be able to ask Ralph for a job; the man probably wouldn't mind her lack of education or credentials. A risky venture, his entanglement in illicit activities was worrisome, Tilly doubted that Ralph could offer her any type of legit work. Bartender. Waitress. Barista. Maybe she should seek a befitting occupation that didn't require a college degree, even if it only paid a minimum wage salary.

Shuffling her feet absentmindedly, both hands shoved in the pockets of her green jacket, Tilly's mind became fully engrossed in serious ruminations. The blonde maneuvered around a corner, mostly unaware of her surroundings. She didn't see the dark-haired woman traveling in the opposite direction. A  head-on collision, shoulders grazing, Tilly snapped out of the trance, her quest for self-actualization would have to be put on hold.

"Sorry, I was rather lost in my own small world." Tilly apologized, glancing toward the female that she had accidentally crashed into.

Short raven curls, enchanting dark irises, wearing a sleeveless shirt, Roni, the owner of the eponymous pub, stood in front of Tilly, a frown plastered on her face. She was distressed, eyes darting around nervously.

"No, it's fine. I was a bit distracted too." Roni stated.

"Are you alright?" Tilly felt inclined to ask.

"Yes. I just-" Roni paused, unsure whether she should divulge her personal issues with the golden-haired stranger.

An odd sentiment, the blonde didn't feel like an unfamiliar acquaintance. Gazing into those two azure eyes, observing the younger woman's mouth become an amicable smile, Roni knew that she could trust Tilly.

"I took my friend's mobile phone device without his permission, and read a message from a young woman who I think is bad news." Roni confessed, "I am going to confront this girl now, to see what her intentions are with him."

"Oh?" Tilly blinked in confusion, "Well, are you doing this because you have a crush on your friend?"

Nose scrunching up in disgust, Roni shook her head, almost as if the notion of being attracted to the man was utterly preposterous. The brunette's own reaction caught her off-guard, she bit her lower lip. It took Roni a few seconds to formulate an explanation behind her insulted response.

"No, he's like a son-" Roni hesitated, combing a hand through her dark tresses, "Anyhow, I don't know why I feel compelled to intervene."

"Hm, well." Tilly folded both arms, bringing an index finger up to tap her chin, "Do you know that this girl is a bad person?"

A wistful sigh, Roni shrugged her shoulders, in noncommittal fashion. The predicament that she had involved herself with was perplexing, the woman didn't know what to do.

"How about you? Did you ever talk to that girl of yours?" Roni remembered that Tilly had her own dilemma.

Cheeks reddening from embarrassment, Tilly ducked her head sheepishly. Showing off a set of white teeth, an encompassing grin took over the blonde's face. She rubbed the back of her neck, unable to contain the churning inside her stomach.

"I guess that there's no more trouble in paradise." Roni grinned knowingly, "Well, I'll leave you to it. Time to get myself out of the mess that I meddled in."

"I wish you luck, Roni." Tilly nodded, removing a hand from her jacket's pocket and waving at the older woman.

Raising two fingers to the top of her head, Roni saluted the blonde, a gesture meant to announce her departure. She walked off, trekking down a path leading toward the Belfrey Towers, something that Tilly didn't fail to notice. What a coincidence, the young woman responsible for Roni's fretfulness was one of Victoria Belfrey's employees. 

It made sense, not a single person who respected themselves would earnestly work for the corrupt business woman. Ivy didn't have much of a choice, defying her mother meant losing the economic stability that she had grown accustomed to. Living in poverty for most of her life, Tilly understood Ivy's conundrum.

A grim expression haunted Tilly's facial features; the blonde knew that Ivy was condemned to a pitiful existence if she stayed under her mother's domain. Victoria Belfrey, evidently the villain of Tilly's idealistic fantasy, the dragon that the young woman had to vanquish in order to rescue her raven-haired princess.

* * *

An elevator is a type of vertical transportation device that moves people and goods between floors, levels, or decks. The contraptions are generally powered by electric motors that either drive traction cables and counterweight systems, similar to a hoist, or pump hydraulic fluid to raise a cylindrical piston, like a jack. An ingenious contraption that existed in this industrial realm.

Flashing bulbs lined up over the doors informed Ivy of which floor the elevator was currently passing through. Expecting Henry's arrival, the brunette pulled out a little cylindrical tube, eager to apply cosmetics onto her lips. She wanted to impress the handsome man, partaking in a malicious sibling rivalry with Jacinda.

Perhaps Ivy was just being petty and selfish, but she enjoyed the competition against fate itself. A triumphant accomplishment, if Henry started to prefer the brunette's companionship, then she would have won, defeating the unstoppable magic of true love. 

What a terrifying paradox, Henry and Jacinda were prophesied as soulmates, but Ivy didn't actually care about her stepsister's predetermined destiny with the brown-haired man. A painful truth pushed itself onto the surface of Ivy's mind, deep inside the most faraway reaches of the brunette's damaged soul, she knew that Tilly also belonged to someone else.

Robin. A beautiful young woman, an excellent archer, daughter of the legendary hero. Emerald irises, dark blonde hair, tall, muscular figure. She believed in altruism, diligence, loyalty, and all those pesky righteous characteristics that a girl like Alice loved to fiercely admire. Robin had a mother who would do anything for her, seemed to be good friends with Alice's father, and inarguably, was a better person than Ivy. 

The elevator chimed, doors sliding open, prying Ivy away from her pessimistic musings. A dark-haired woman stepped out of the modern conveyor lift. Ivy's eyes widened in shock, she closed the mirror compact resting on her palm as a recognizable individual came nearer.

"You can put away the war paint. Henry's not coming." The older brunette stated, marching toward Ivy, "I decided to save him the trouble and stop this little game of yours before it starts."

The tangible remnants of Regina Mills stood before her, glaring at Ivy with well-placed suspicion. Roni, the proprietor of a quaint bar, even without her memories, she couldn't help but interfere in Henry's affairs. How could the woman's maternal instincts be so resilient? 

"And what game is that exactly?" Ivy challenged. 

"Well, I don't know, Ivy. But if I had to guess, you're either trying to piss your mother off, or you just want to take one more thing away from your sister, Jacinda." Roni retorted, reciting an accurate list of presumptions.

"Stepsister." Ivy corrected, "And from what Henry told me, there is nothing to take. Why are you so interested, anyway? You barely know him." 

Ivy tried to move away from Roni, agitated by the older woman’s accusations. Taking a stride toward the brunette, Roni didn't relent, blocking the raven-haired girl's attempts to escape.

"I know him enough to know he's a good kid." Roni rebutted, "And I won't let you mess up his life." 

Ivy could read the underlying message hidden in the woman's statements. Henry was a good person, a virtue that he didn't share with Ivy. Two judgmental eyes gazed at the young brunette, a glimmer of disdain flashed across Roni's face.

"You might not believe this, but I have risked a lot offering my help. If my mother finds out about this, I'll be cleaning her toilets." Ivy ranted, "Like, for real. And I wouldn't risk that just to stick it to Jacinda."

"Well, if you're so eager to destroy your mother, prove it." Roni tested the sincerity of Ivy's theatrical ramblings.

"Fine." Ivy quipped, "Follow me."

Pulling out a key card, the brunette guided Roni toward the elevators. Ivy's master scheme was proceeding even more smoothly than she had predicted. Roni would stumble across the photograph of Henry and herself, stirring up ghosts and recollections from a forgotten past. Ivy should be happy, but as the brunette analyzed the events that were transpiring, she formed a foreboding hypothesis. 

Roni was afflicted by a magnetic pull, an attraction tugging the older brunette toward Henry, a man who she didn't even know. He had been her adopted son in a different universe, but their feelings for one another were impossible to eradicate. Sensibility began to sink settle; some supernatural forces couldn't be defeated. 

If Roni felt a connection to Henry, then Regina's spirit still lingered on. Ivy's relationship with Tilly was doomed, just as it had been once before. Despite all of the brunette's efforts, fate couldn't be conquered, the inevitable might only be prolonged for a few, brief moments. Sooner or later, the golden-haired girl would return to her rightful place, next to the person who Alice truly loved.

An ache burned against Ivy's chest, coiling around the brunette's heart, shattering the hopes that she fervently hung onto. It didn't matter how much Ivy believed that Tilly was different from Alice, the truth always found a way to pierce through artificial fallacies. If Ivy couldn't prevent Henry from gravitating toward Jacinda, she would be rendered impotent against Robin's influential thrall over Tilly.

Power. Ivy needed to acquire stronger magic, potent enough to keep Tilly subdued under a shroud of enchantments. Abiding to moral principles had never been one of Ivy's prevalent attributes. She just couldn't renounce her own love for Tilly. Even if the blue-eyed girl might be nothing more than a temporary phantom, Ivy Belfrey only felt real when Tilly was by her side.


	50. Wounds

Chapter 50

Wounds

* * *

 

A crescent moon adorned an endless void of black, encircled by a bunch of twinkling specks. Stars, glimmering and radiant, the ones that were furthest away, almost outside the realm of physical existence, behaved like flashing bulbs, decorating a veil of darkness. Each celestial body glittered across the sky, like an obelisk ceiling embroidered with silvery gems.

Laying down on a park bench, near the Aurora Bridge, Tilly stared up at the heavens. It was late, the sun had set into the horizon several hours ago. She didn't know if Ivy would be coming or not, but the night seemed gorgeous, so might as well sleep outdoors. The blonde gazed upon the vast assortment of constellations, wondering if any of them held the answers to her countless questions.

Folded neatly beneath her head, Tilly was using a soft leather jacket as a makeshift pillow. She thought about Ivy Belfrey, all her quirky traits, shrouded virtues, and exaggerated vices, focusing on how lonely the young woman appeared to be. Tilly had never met someone so puzzling. Ivy's two brown eyes were overwhelmed by pain, such a saddening sight.

Mending a broken heart might be impossible, Tilly was aware of that. The blonde would never be so presumptuous to think that she had the ability to repair Ivy, the arrogant notion didn't cross her mind. No one can fix another person, the raven-haired girl needed to rehabilitate herself, Tilly could only supply an infinite amount of unwavering support. 

In spite of the brunette's faults and defects, Tilly loved Ivy Belfrey, a benign gesture that might not suffice. The young woman refused to let go of her secrets. Tilly's efforts were always ineffective, she couldn't reach the damaged girl, Ivy's mind resided somewhere farther away than all the distant stars stretched across the wide expanse of the galaxy. 

"Tilly?" 

Head turning to the side, Tilly sat upright, pivoting around and dropping her feet to the ground. The blonde grinned, flattening down the lapels of the red flannel shirt and rectifying the crooked collar of her bulky jacket. She never did quite feel suitable enough to be in the presence of a girl like Ivy Belfrey.

Black tresses flowing in the autumn wind, the lamp posts lining up the streets emitted a dim light, beams that shined across Ivy's gorgeous auburn irises, gracing them with an iridescent orange glow. Ivy stood before the blonde, an apologetic disposition, she smiled at Tilly.

Cheeks flustered and red, the raven-haired girl must have been in a hurry to get here. She tucked a loose ebony curl behind her ear, mouth opening up to provide Tilly with some unwarranted explanation.

"Sorry for being late, I was just-" 

"It's quite alright, Ivy." Tilly cut off the brunette's unnecessary speech, "I don't mind waiting for you."

A tender smile widened across Tilly's face, the sincerity in the blonde's declaration, it was almost enough to make Ivy want to cry. Eyes gleaming with love and understanding, Tilly patted an empty spot by her side, beckoning Ivy to sit down. 

It didn't require a lot of persuasion, the brunette flopped onto the park bench, reclining against the backrest. Working for Victoria Belfrey and juggling an ulterior set of goals, the dual nature of her lifestyle, Ivy had grown utterly exhausted. 

"I have something for you, besides your leather jacket." Tilly announced, returning the brunette's expensive article of clothing.

"Thanks." Ivy retrieved her jacket, enjoying how Tilly's fingers never wasted an opportunity to brush across the brunette's own knuckles during an item exchange.

The golden-haired girl stuffed a hand into the pocket of her coat, pulling out a yellow candlestick, a chocolate cupcake, and a lighter. Impaling the delectable treat with the slim wax pole, Tilly sparked up the fire device. Moving carefully and slowly, she placed the tiny flame near the wick. 

"Happy Birthday!" Tilly chirped cheerfully, holding the festive cupcake in front of Ivy.

Perfectly baked chocolate batter, its pink meringue frosting had been coated with multicolored sprinkles of sugar, a yellow candlestick inserted at its center. Would Tilly ever get tired of squandering money away, purchasing cupcakes for Ivy on a semi-daily basis?

An amused sigh escaped Ivy's lips. She contemplated deceiving the blonde, playing along with the illusion that it was her birthday. One more needless lie, but at least Ivy would be acting out of consideration for Tilly's economical adversities, rather than serving her own selfish desire of remaining by the golden-haired girl's side.

"Alright, you guessed it right this time." Ivy accepted the pastry, blowing out the flame.

"Wow." Tilly giggled, shaking her head, "You're an awful liar."

Staring at the blonde blankly, Ivy had been rendered momentarily speechless. Tilly's intuition was inconsistent, while some of the brunette's fallacies remained undetected, she could often accurately perceive Ivy's thoughts. Perhaps it made sense, Tilly only saw glimpses of the raven-haired girl's true self. 

"I just-" Ivy lowered the cupcake down, gently cradling the thoughtful gift over her lap, "I don't want you to waste your money on me."

"And maybe I don't consider it a _waste_ , Ivy." Tilly shifted, reaching out for Ivy's hand, "Maybe I want to spend my money on you." 

Fingers coiling around one of Ivy's wrists, Tilly slid her palm down the brunette's sleeve, bunching up the tweed fabric of the blazer. Scooting closer to Ivy and tightening her grip, Tilly accidentally began exposing the raven-haired girl's forearm.

An unexpected reaction, Ivy flinched away from Tilly's touch, shrugging off the blonde's hand. She readjusted the garment, pulling back the cuff and covering up her skin. Ivy placed the cupcake on the park bench, deserting the treat without bothering to taste it. She was clearly hiding something, and her erratic behavior only worsened Tilly's curiosity.

"Ivy, what happened to your arm?" Tilly murmured, "Please, show me."

"N-No, I-" Ivy stammered, "I just had a really bad day."

Interpreting Ivy's timid stutter as an indirect form of permission, Tilly made a tentative movement toward the raven-haired girl. She reclaimed Ivy's wrist with one hand, while her other arm rose to support the brunette's elbow. 

Fluttering eyelashes, Ivy closed her eyes, inhaling a deep breath. Earning a nod from the brunette, Tilly felt the young woman's arm relax under her hold. Between her index finger and thumb, she peeled down Ivy's sleeve. Tilly's breath hitched when she saw all the jagged round marks. 

"Something angered me today, and I held onto my arm, hoping to calm myself down." Ivy dared to glance at Tilly, "It's just a coping mechanism, I didn't realize that I was digging in so hard with my nails."

Proceeding the meeting with Roni, the raven-haired girl fell into a state of irreparable distraught. Worries plagued Ivy's mind, uncertainties and fears, each piling on top of one another. The young sorceress was battling forces that she couldn't defeat, waging a war against fate itself.

The cerulean irises displayed no judgment or disgust, Tilly simply twisted around on the park bench, seated adjacent to Ivy. She crossed both legs, using her intertwined appendages as a pedestal for Ivy's slightly mutilated arm.

Without saying a word, Tilly unzipped her backpack, scrambling through its contents. Tilly found a first-aid kit. A loud pop, she managed to pry open a small metallic case, setting aside next to her. A roll of gauze, a few bottles of medicine, but Tilly concentrated on the several packages of disinfectant wipes, using her teeth and ripping into one.

An overpowering ache burned sharply against Ivy's chest, she had never been cared for in such a manner, not by anyone. Eyes swelling up with emotion, the brunette attempted to pull her arm away from Tilly, unwilling to accept so much of the golden-haired girl's kindness. Ivy didn't deserve it.

"Stop squirming." Tilly ordered, latching her hand over Ivy's wrist, "Just let me help you."

Conceding to the blonde's commands, Ivy stopped flailing her arm. She shuffled her body around, trying to get into a more comfortable position. Ivy felt a lump lodged against her throat, and as she struggled to speak, the statement came out like a sob.

"W-Why are you so kind?" Ivy choked out, a sentimental inquiry that was neither a compliment nor an accusation.

Tilting her head to the side, Tilly gave the brunette a look of confusion. She didn't comprehend Ivy's question. Scrunching up her mouth into a bemused grin, Tilly resumed the task of tending to Ivy's arm.

"We have to take care of each other, Ivy." Tilly smiled at the other girl.

Such a short reply, as if the notion of the two young women catering to one another's needs had been declared a fundamental law. Maybe from Tilly's perspective, life was just that simple.

The pads of Tilly's fingertips grazed Ivy's tiny wounds, accessing the severity of the damage. Pressing the moist wipe onto the brunette's skin, she dabbed the lesions, alarmed by the discovery that Ivy had drawn blood, the flesh was tarnished with the circular engravings of her own nails. 

"I'm a mess, aren't I?" Ivy muttered sheepishly.

"No, you just had a bad moment." Tilly reassured, "Let's get you cleaned up."

Plucking a bottle of ointment out of the first-aid kit, Tilly squirted some cream across Ivy's arm. With the wipe, the blonde applied pressure on each crimson slit. Wincing from pain, Ivy allowed the other girl to sanitize her self-inflicted injuries. 

Bowing her head down, Tilly kissed the four cuts, lips caressing each blemish. She took out the roll of gauze, unraveling a long strip and tearing it up into four sections, one for every slash. The blonde delicately wrapped the bandages over Ivy's arm, ensuring that her touches were tender and soft.

"Tell me about Alice." Tilly asked, a meek request.

After surveying her finished product, she swiped back the sleeve of Ivy's blazer, looking up at the brunette with a proud smile. Tilly seized the raven-haired girl's hand, smoothing out each clenched finger, massaging the tense muscles.

Ivy would much rather avoid the subject of Alice, but Tilly needed to be granted a miniscule sliver of trust, anything to demonstrate a measure of progress between their relationship. Ivy had to stop bottling up all her thoughts and feelings. She was too uptight and rigid, the firmest trees were known to snap abruptly when assaulted by a tempestuous gust. 

Slumping onto the blonde's shoulder, Ivy took a moment to collect her thoughts. Maybe divulging a distorted version of her history with Alice would appease Tilly's curiosity and alleviate the pain throbbing against Ivy's chest. Venting out all the suppressed emotions and sentiments that she had never been able to tell Alice, the idea might be cathartic. 

A serene quietude had fallen across the street, a couple of crickets could be heard tweeting in the distance. If it weren't for the shimmer from the lamp posts, shadows would have surrounded the park bench. The atmosphere might appear quite frightening to some people, but Ivy never felt anything other than peace when she was by Tilly's side. A final second of hesitation, the brunette parted her lips to speak.

"Alice broke my heart, Tilly." The words slipped out from Ivy's mouth, whispered as if it were the first time that she uttered the statement aloud.

Unable to look at Tilly and not see Alice's ghost staring right back at her, Ivy's gaze stayed fixated on their clasped hands. She hid her face against the other young woman's neck. Thighs and shoulders pressing together, Ivy nuzzled into the blonde's curls.

Assuming that retelling this story would be difficult for the brunette, Tilly was patient. She gave Ivy's fingers an encouraging squeeze, thumb gliding over the raven-haired girl's knuckles. Tilly had met enough psychologists throughout her life to conclude that Ivy needed to find some form of therapeutic closure.

"Alice was my f-first, the person that I-" Ivy's throat constricted with distress. 

Ivy didn't know how to phrase the fact that she had lost her virginity to Alice without sounding inexplicably pathetic. The memories washed over her, as unstoppable and destructive as a tsunami, and attacked by a sudden urgency, Ivy began suffocating in all the emotions that Alice used to make her feel.

Releasing the brunette's hands, Tilly reclined back, curling two fingers under Ivy's chin. She nudged the raven-haired girl, begging her to look up. Ivy surrendered to Tilly's inaudible wishes, auburn eyes staring intently into a set of phantasmal blue irises. A glint of recognition, Tilly deducted the reason behind the shaky quiver in Ivy's voice.

"Your first?" Tilly whispered, pressing against Ivy's cheek with her palm.

"Y-Yeah... We slept together, and I told her-" Ivy swallowed hard, strengthening her composure, "I told Alice that I loved her, and at the time, I didn't notice how she hadn't said the words back to me. In the morning, without any explanation, or so much as sparing me the decency of a parting conversation, she was _gone_."

"Ivy, I'm so sorry-"

Pushing back from Tilly, the blonde's mumbled apology ignited a fire inside of Ivy's chest. It wasn't fair, Alice had abandoned her, left the young woman lying naked on top of a cold mattress. Ivy might have been a consenting adult, but she didn't agree to undergo the process of getting her heart torn out. How could Alice do that to Ivy and then run off to live happily ever after with someone else?

"What kind of person does that? Who gets up in the middle of the night and leaves someone alone?" Ivy yelled, eyes glossing over, "I was just a casual fling to her, a pathetic girl who she charmed and seduced. I bet it felt powerful, listening to me linger on her every damn word!"

The resentment that Ivy harbored toward Alice weighed heavily over her shoulders. She glared at Tilly as if the blonde were the same young woman who battered her soul. If any traces of Alice laid dormant in the back of Tilly's dark pupils, Ivy had to let the golden-haired girl's revenant know how much she has been suffering since that faithful night.

"She must have known how hard it was for me to confess my feelings for her. I gave Alice my-my everything!" Ivy ramblings turned into pitiful whimpers, "Why wasn't that enough? W-Why am I never... Why am I never _enough_?"

The brunette's fingers clutched around her own blouse, wrinkling the material and threatening to mangle the garment at its seams. Tears streaming down her cheeks, eyes swollen, puffy, and red. Ivy panted hoarsely, struggling to breath and not bothering to care. 

The sympathetic expression on Tilly's face contorted into a heartbroken grimace, she didn't know how to process everything that the raven-haired girl had said. Two azure irises were glistening, unshed tears pooled over the corners of her eyes. She moved toward Ivy at a sluggish pace, palms perching on the agitated young woman's neck. Tilly leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. 

Rage. Tilly had never experienced the sentiment before, but as the blonde listened to Ivy's tale, she couldn't stop herself from fully despising Alice. Disdain bubbled within the depths of Tilly's stomach, coursing through her veins, a steady flow of seething hatred and jealousy. How dare Alice reject Ivy's love? Tilly would kill for the chance to be adored by the magnificent young woman.

"Ivy, look at me." Tilly ordered, cupping Ivy's face, "Please, listen."

Tilly used her thumbs to wipe away Ivy's tears, tenderly rubbing off the residual smudges under the brunette's eyes. She finally saw Ivy for who she was, assessing the swirling mixture of insecurities and doubts that flickered across those brown irises. An immeasurable volume of melancholy laid beneath Ivy Belfrey's arrogant exterior. Beyond the elegant mask, a hint of volatile darkness, and despite all of those discrepancies, Tilly loved this gorgeous girl.

"Alice is a pathetic idiot. She didn't deserve your love, Ivy. You are the most extraordinary person that I've ever met." Tilly smiled wistfully, "And even though a homeless street orphan like me isn't nearly good enough for Miss Ivy Belfrey, I, absolutely, irrevocably, love you."

Terror and apprehension darkened Ivy's facial features, the encompassing feeling that Tilly's words were not honest. Nose wrinkling up, eyebrows furrowed with denial, Ivy shook her head from side to side, protesting the blonde's romantic proclamations.

"Do-Don't say that." Ivy hiccupped, "Not unless you really mean it."

"I do." Tilly didn't wait a second before refuting, "I love you, Ivy."

The conviction in Tilly's voice was irrefutable, her declarations sounded vehement and sincere. Ivy burst into another round of sobs, her slim frame shuddering against Tilly's own body. Most specialists would consider this event a monumental breakthrough, but Tilly only cared about Ivy's mental well-being and happiness.

Slithering one arm around Ivy's waist and tangling her other hand in the brunette's bundle of short curls. Tilly embraced the young woman tightly. She felt Ivy cuddle the area along her collarbone, snuggling into the nape of the taller girl's neck. Ivy tucked her head under Tilly's chin, nestling safely against the blonde's chest. 

Whatever emptiness lived inside of Ivy constantly tried to reach out for affection. Alice had wounded the brunette so deeply that she doubted her own self-worth. Ivy fabricated an alluring charade, transformed herself into a ruthless and self-absorbed business assistant, a person who couldn't be harmed because she simply didn't exist. 

Hugging the brunette, threading her fingers through the ebony tresses, Tilly knew that she didn't possess the appropriate qualifications to heal the scars clawed across Ivy's heart. Ghosts tormented the young woman, malicious impulses and misguided cravings that Tilly couldn't combat or control. The blonde was only able to offer one remedy, unconditional affection. Tilly vowed to give Ivy Belfrey all the love that she had been deprived of, even if it might never be enough.


	51. Crying Spells

Chapter 51

Crying Spells

* * *

 

If love is the master key that opens the gates of happiness, then hatred is a force capable of unlocking the gates of melancholy. Resentment. Disgust. Anger. All-consuming feelings that debilitate the spirit, as intense and uncontrollable as a blazing flame. These emotions spread like a wildfire, destroying every pleasant memory stuck in its path.

Wrinkled bedsheets on a mattress, the incessant crying of a girl whose heart was shattered, a pile of tiny fragments that struggled to beat from under her breastbone. Fingers clutched at the fabric, balling up into two fists, pulling at the silk material. Egyptian cotton, an impressive thread count, the most expensive cloth. None of that had persuaded Alice to stay, no amount of gold or riches, nor a banquet feast full of exquisite dishes, and certainly not Drizella's declaration of love. 

Arms wrapped around both legs, bended at the knees, Drizella curled up in a seated position, rocking herself back and forth, as if she were merely a child. Perhaps a fraction of the brunette's soul was innocent before meeting Alice, even if she had _just_ murdered a man, maybe Drizella possessed a sliver of light amongst the darkness of her soul. Whatever radiance lingered in the past, no longer existed, not after Alice's departure. 

Seething with an inexplicable wrath, Drizella was more adamant than ever before. She would cast a dark curse, and punish an entire realm, full of unsuspecting bystanders, for all the suffering that life had caused her. Possible repercussions were irrelevant to Drizella, she didn't care about the consequences of her actions anymore. Left alone, naked on top of a mattress, Drizella's hopes had been finally snuffed out, smothered by an endless sequence of tears, weeping until she couldn't even remember how to breath.

A sudden crippling fear assaulted Drizella's heart, the notion that despite Alice's betrayal, she was unable to hate the golden-haired girl. It didn't make much sense, Drizella had never found herself in such an irrational manner before. A self-deprecating voice echoed inside her head, reminding Drizella that she may have not been enough for Alice. The blonde deserved a hero, a righteous young woman who upheld a moral code of principles.

Cynicism. Apathy. Selfishness. The blonde had seen all of Drizella's vices, the shadows that laid behind her auburn irises. Alice was right to leave, she should aspire to be with someone whose soul remained pure and benign. Predestined as the cheerful sun abandoning the secretive moon during the transitional journey of night from day, Alice couldn't live by Drizella's side, she needed to reside in a resplendent setting, a place where her kindness and compassion could blossom. 

Red prickly veins protruded across white retinas, Drizella's eyes were puffy and swollen, cheeks flustered from her never-ending crying spells. Nose congested, she strained her lungs to ingest oxygen, compelled by a primitive instinct to live. This world had made the error of mistreating Drizella for the last time. She would invoke the sinister incantation, plunging the universe into a sea of doubts and misfortunes, the same sentiments that drowned Drizella on a daily basis.

Her mind flooded with thoughts of vengeance and violence, Drizella expected the silent ruminations to somehow reach Alice, to travel across the distance to wherever the blonde might be, and beckon her to return. Drizella would promise to change, the raven-haired girl was willing to give Alice anything, to make all kinds of vows, whether she believed in them or not, it didn't matter. Drizella just wanted Alice to come back.

"A-Alice." Drizella couldn't recognize her own voice, she sounded so broken and meek, "Alice..."

Drizella whimpered the name into the empty room, as if chanting the two-syllables could summon Alice to her. It was pathetic, how one minute Drizella would be proclaiming idle threats, and then in an instant, she reverted back to lamenting Alice's departure. How pitiful, the promising sorceress had been reduced to a sniveling little girl, and all because of something as naive as  _love_.

What a grotesque four-letter word. Drizella was never a fan of the concept, because it would be hard for the dark-haired girl to enjoy a theoretical sensation that she hadn't been able to experience for herself. Now that the brunette knew exactly how painful love felt, she despised the sentiment more so than ever.

It simply wasn't fair, how some individuals were blessed and others had been born to suffer. Things never came easily to Drizella, a streak of tragedy followed her everywhere that she went. It almost seemed as if the brunette didn't have the constitution for happiness, that the privileged wouldn't be granted to her.

On the very day that Ella had been planning to murder a prince, she just happened to find her soulmate. Henry saved the raven-haired woman from the darkness brewing inside of her. He refused to let Ella become overwhelmed by hatred, persistently following her to the royal ball and convincing the impulsive brunette to choose forgiveness instead of revenge.

Henry had risked everything for Ella, a fact that used to nauseate Drizella, but now it only saturated her with envy. Alice didn't feel the same fervent passion for Drizella, not even a smidgen of the love that Henry harbored toward Ella.

Fate, the force that slithered between events, an unbreakable cord, intertwining some people together and driving others apart. Guided by the whims of destiny, Henry presented Ella with a different option; true love. Through similar arbitrary machinations, the powers that be had deemed Drizella unworthy of affection.

To hell with the wise and celestial forces that people placed so much faith in, Drizella would dedicate her life to altering the foundation of nature itself. She was committed to ensuring that everyone who had ever wronged her paid dearly for their transgressions. Lady Tremaine. Regina. Alice. All the individuals that lied to Drizella, claiming to care for her, but always choosing another. Anastasia, the only daughter that Drizella's mother valued. Henry, the adopted son that occupied an enormous spot in Regina's heart, sparing little room for another surrogate child. Drizella might never be prioritized, but she yearned to become vindicated.

Regardless of how long it took, or what type of fiendish pact Drizella would have to resort to, she was vehemently devoted to destroying the current state of reality and constructing her own. Anywhere must be better than here, and if love couldn't resolve Drizella's suffering, she trusted that bitterness might just be able to suffice.

Hatred, a consistent feeling that was never going to forsake the brunette, a reliable and dependable emotion, never faltering or stalling. Alice had dug a hole inside of Drizella's heart, a gapping chasm that needed to be filled with something other than emptiness and despair.

* * *

Hyacinths are gorgeous flowers, generated from bulbs, each producing an arrangement of linear leaves and floral spikes. Although the plant is relatively harmless, its nectar contains traces of magic, an essence that only the most gifted of witches could harness into an efficient potion.

Stuck in a six-sided steel encasement, the conveyor apparatus traveling to a restricted destination. Ivy sighed, reflecting on Victoria Belfrey's modern version of a dungeon, located at a tall skyscraper, this realm's replacement for a castle.

Petals shaded in a bluish-purple hue, Ivy's thoughts drifted toward the color of Tilly's irises, two sapphire circles adorning wide pupils, brimming with innocence and tenderness. Ivy was so engrossed in her daydream about the blonde's eyes that by the time she looked up, the elevator doors were already opening.

Sauntering down a dimly lit passage, wearing a narrow skirt and a fashionable blouse, Ivy's hips swayed with elegance and grace. Her composure couldn't waver in front of Eloise Gardner, she had to be a stoic pillar of conviction. The woman was not permitted to see Ivy's hesitation or reluctance, Tilly had to continue being the raven-haired girl's best kept secret.

Near the end of the narrow corridor, the sinister witch crept toward Ivy. Her cobalt eyes focused on the bundle of flowers held in Ivy's fingers. Hyacinths, such a splendid display of them. A pleased smile found its way to Eloise's lips.

With a playful smirk, Ivy waved her hand, gesturing toward the floral bouquet. Ivy was wary of what Eloise could perceive if she dropped her guard. The deceptive woman had many talents, and an aptitude for detecting weaknesses.

"You got them! Give them here. I can't wait any longer." Eloise snatched the flowers from Ivy's hands, shoving her nose in their petals, "Ah!"

Eloise nuzzled into the hyacinths, inhaling their sweet scent, similar to how Ivy would appreciate Tilly's signature fragrance whenever the other girl hugged her. For a second, Ivy wondered if Eloise required a moment alone with the flowers.

"So, do they have the magic we need?" Ivy asked.

"Only the tiniest seed. But it's still quite fragile." Eloise informed her, "It needs fertile ground."

"I suppose I'm to get that, too?" Ivy snarled, "I have spent too much time in this world fetching things!"

Succumbing to her restlessness, Ivy spun around to leave. Such a volatile temper, it always hindered her superficially firm resolve. The brunette had let Eloise get a glimpse of her true self; the child buried underneath the disguise of Ivy Belfrey was petulant and impatience. 

Time was ticking on and on, the exhausting days slipped away into lonely nights. Tilly would soon grow tired of Ivy's prudish demeanor. Not even a saint could tolerate being in a relationship with someone who offered a meager amount of affection, lacking any romantic kisses or meaningful touches.

"You must be patient a little longer, my dear." Eloise cried out from behind, watching as Ivy stopped walking away, "Remember what I taught you. Remember how we survive."

A crucial lesson, Eloise had taught Ivy how to convert her hatred into a formidable weapon. The raven-haired girl could gather all the contempt and disdain that swirled around the pits of her stomach, fading the sentiments into a polychromatic palette, visualizing what she wanted the most.

"I know. I close my eyes." Ivy's eyelids fluttered shut, "I imagine my mother's destruction."

The young woman's heart laughed at the deluded suggestion, contemplating whether Ivy truly thought that she could lie to herself. How amusing, she clung to old misconceptions. It had been such a long time since Victoria's demise was the reward that actually Ivy coveted.

"Mother isn't the only one to be wary of." Eloise quipped.

"Regina." Ivy turned back around to face Eloise.

"I'm not sure it was wise to give her the photo." Eloise glared at the young woman.

"Oh, don't worry." Ivy approached Eloise, a challenging smirk decorated her face, "By the end of the day, Regina won't be a problem."

Surveying Ivy's smug expression, Eloise was appeased by the brunette's confident tone, but she would have to frequently assess the young woman's mannerisms. Something was different about Ivy, a glint in her auburn eyes that Eloise couldn't quite decipher.

"Good." Eloise replied, "Now run along, dear. Fetch me some soil."

Another tedious errand, Ivy nodded at the older woman. She was exasperated from undertaking all these fruitless tasks, but at least Eloise had proven herself to be an indispensable source of knowledge when it came to the magical arts. Ivy heeded her mentor's advice, she imagined the ideal outcome of the taxing tribulations. The brunette allowed her desires to manifest into a mental image.

Cerulean skies, not a cloud darkened the atmosphere. Picturing a large hotel suite, located at some Caribbean island, near a beautiful seashore, with a balcony leading out to a panoramic view of the ocean. The sound of waves rolling up against the coast. Fine crystalline sand, clusters of majestic palm trees furnished the beach. 

Two young women resting on top of a mattress, their limbs intertwined, a tangled mess. Raven curls and golden tresses, the eclipse of the moon and the sun. Ivy's fingertips grazing along the smooth skin of a soft chest, her leg curled over Tilly's waist. Only giggles, moans, and sighs would reverberate across the room, solely passionate kisses and ardent caresses could be performed under the bedsheets. Lying down next to Tilly, snuggling against the blonde's warm body, such a cinematic scene. After a long and perilous journey, Ivy's happy ending finally felt within her reach.


	52. Gifts

Chapter 52

Gifts

* * *

 

A tall stone tower, erected in the middle of an isolated forest, perched like a lighthouse amidst a sea of evergreen trees. From on top of its elevated balcony, the view was utterly breathtaking. The large pillar facilitated a beautiful glimpse at the heavens above. Stars shimmered radiantly along the black sky, bright silver specks that illuminated the encompassing stratosphere.

Condemned to a life within the enchanted belfry, Alice Jones spent most days reading novels, and the majority of her nights staring out the window. A textbook based on astrology, opened to a page, she gazed at the celestial bodies, the only objects that the golden-haired girl could study from her permanent seclusion. Tracing the patterns to identify the constellations, Alice enjoyed recognizing each one. Pisces. Leo. Scorpio. Sagittarius. Anything to pass the time, counting down the hours until her father returned.

Killian Jones, he was once an infamous pirate, a legend among scoundrels and thieves. Having lost a hand during some violent conflict, he had attached a tool to the residual stump, a creative prosthetic that earned him the nickname of 'Captain Hook' and gave the charmingly handsome man a more sinister appearance.

Suave, personable, eloquent, Killian possessed traits that women found desirable. Perhaps it was his weakness for beautiful maidens that made him susceptible to a witch's evil scheme. Lust, the downfall of most men, Killian should have known better, he acted too naive, consumed by arrogance and foolishness.

The flaw that Mother Gothel took advantage of. The manifestation of nature, a sinister fiend, trapped inside the tower, a feat that a resourceful young woman, Rapunzel Tremaine, had been able to accomplish. A provoked action, the evil sorceress wanted to curse Rapunzel's daughter, Anastasia, to ensnare the little girl within the sequestered citadel. 

An unfortunate accident, Anastasia fell into a frozen lake, and hypothermia had almost run its course through her small body. After saving the fatally injured girl, Mother Gothel attempted to retain custody over her, the payment for the curative magic. Rapunzel outsmarted Mother Gothel, using the witch's own curse against her.

The spell magically bounded the dastardly villain to the tower. A preventative measure, there was just no way that Rapunzel, the damsel who had become world renowned for escaping the concrete column by utilizing an abnormally long braid of hair as a rope, would let Anastasia, her daughter, suffer the same dreadful fate.

The reverse version of the incantation that Mother Gothel had used to detain Rapunzel in the steeple, the witch needed an offspring to take her place. Conjuring a shape-shifting hex, the woman seduced Killian, and the romantic affair resulted in a baby. A gorgeous golden-haired girl, damned to a pitiful existence. Stuck within the tower, Alice was never permitted to step out from the exact location of her birth.

Refusing to abandon the infant in the bewitched structure, Killian took it upon himself to raise the little girl, naming her Alice, after his deceased mother. Knights and rooks, teaching the child how to play chess. Waltz, demonstrating the fair art of dance. Sword-fighting, any well-prepared maiden should be capable of defending herself. What a peculiar turn of events, Captain Hook, the mighty swashbuckler, a terrorizing figure, changed into a better man by becoming the best father in all the realms.

Throughout the years, Killian had amassed an enormous amount of reading material for Alice. Besides informative textbooks, he brought the blonde novels that retold wonderful stories. The man aimed to nourish his daughter's imagination, inspiring her to have faith in wishes and dreams.

Scaling up the fortress, clinging to the ivy plants that grew over the edifice, Killian came back from one of his routine trips to the marketplace. He often went to a nearby bazaar, whenever the need to purchase groceries and supplies arose. Alice stationed herself by the window sill, as a vigilant waiting for Killian to return.

On this particularly festive occasion, Killian arrived with a lemon pie, a tart that had been coated in frosting, impaled by a candlestick. It was Alice's eighth birthday, and her father never wasted an opportunity to dote on the young girl. The blue-eyed man held the pastry in one hand, the wick's tiny flame reflected sparkles against his cerulean irises. 

"Happy Birthday, my starfish." Killian smiled, presenting his daughter with the treat.

"Papa!" Alice squealed gleefully.

Face lighting up joy, Alice rushed to embrace Killian, throwing both her arms around his waist. He struggled not to drop the pie. Alice was glad to see him, she couldn't care less about the gifts that Killian had bought for her. The blonde just wanted to be with her beloved father.

"Whoa." Killian warned gently, gripping on tightly to the pastry, "Careful, love."

Leading them toward Alice's bed, he took a seat against the edge of the cot. The little girl pounced on the mattress, nestling beneath the quilts and blankets. Killian held the lemon pie near his daughter's lips.

"Blow the candle, make a wish, and-" Killian's grin displayed a hint of sadness, "Well, you know how it goes."

Nodding at her father, the blonde puffed, emitting a gust of air. She blew out the blaze, her eyes fixated back on Killian, looking up at him with an inquisitive demeanor. It was almost as if Alice had been yearning for a particular wish to be granted.

"What's wrong, Alice?" Killian asked, setting the tart by the nightstand.

"N-Nothing." Alice turned away, avoiding his perceptive gaze.

"You can't fool me, I know when something's bothering you." Killian scooted closer to the girl, "Tell me, love. What's the matter?"

"I-I..." Alice opened her mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come out.

"Come on, Alice. Nothing that you say can make me love you less." Killian insisted, placing his palm on Alice's chin, urging the blonde to raise her head. 

Biting her lower lip sheepishly, Alice relented, releasing an exasperated sigh. The golden-haired girl looked visibly uncomfortable as she started to formulate a response. Alice's voice was subdued, lacking her typical perky tone.

"T-These books, that you bring me to read, the girl always falls in love with a boy, right?" Alice surveyed her father's reaction.

"Yes, and?" Killian was following along, but he had no idea where Alice's analysis of romantic literature was going.

"What if- What if I don't want to fall in love with a boy?" Alice paused, taking a deep breath before she finished blurting out her bold declaration, "What if I rather fall in love with another _girl_?"

Both of the blonde's cheeks were tainted red, the young girl blushed furiously. She didn't know how her father would process the revelation. Alice's heart thumped roughly against her chest. With each fleeting moment of silence, she grew more and more.wary. Concerns and doubts filled up Alice's mind.

Killian blinked blankly, confusion plastered across his face. He was rendered speechless for a couple of seconds. The short instant felt like an eternity to Alice, and then, with a spontaneous jubilation, Killian burst into a fit of laughter.

Alice's preference for females didn't upset him, at the very least, Killian deduced the thought to be highly flattering. He would _truly_ be the only man that Alice ever cared for.  

"Then I guess that we have one more thing in common." Killian teased, "I quite fancy girls too. Never cared much for blokes."

The corners of Alice's lips quirked upward, exposing a perfect set of white teeth, she lunged for Killian, enveloping him in a bone-crushing hug. The man reciprocated the gesture, arms wrapping around his greatest treasure, the adorable girl who had captured a conniving pirate's heart.

"I love you, Papa." Alice chirped.

"And I love you, Alice." Killian leaned down and kissed his daughter's head, "More than anything." 

Limitless acceptance, unconditional adoration, overwhelming affection. Such an impossible task it would be, to recite all of the sentiments that Killian lavished upon Alice. Other children might not be locked inside a tower, but some parents turned their homes into loveless prisons. Alice was incredibly fortunate, although the young blonde didn’t have her freedom, she had a father who loved her.

When deliberating the notion of future suitors for Alice, the lenient man had established one single requirement. Whoever the lucky girl might be, she must dedicate every ounce of her soul to Alice, a father's nonnegotiable terms. Perhaps the standards were a bit extreme, but Killian could not accept anyone offering less than what he had already given his daughter.

* * *

A hospital is a health care institution that administers medical treatment. The building contains a wide assortment of modern technological advancements and a highly-qualified staff. With large numbers of beds for patients who need long-term services, each hospital is equipped to provide rehabilitation regimens, psychiatric therapy, or pharmaceutical aid.

Even though the clinical establishments should serve as wondrous sanctuaries of hope, death and despair lurked among their hallways. Given the negative connotation, most people despise hospitals. A place where individuals went to receive the cure for some malignant condition that afflicted them, these remedial centers were necessary, but far from pleasant. 

Being retained in a narrow room. Fed generic and bland meals. Obligated to wear a flimsy gown. Hospitals often resembled prisons, given the manner in which they controlled its occupants with rules and regulations, inhibiting their desire for liberty.

Huffing like the stubborn man that he was, Detective Weaver trudged through his hospital room, eager to leave the dull facility. Slipping into his usual jacket, the police officer was tired of being forced to recuperated, more than satisfied with the current state of his recovery.

Loitering around the confining quarters, a pair of blue-eyed individuals, Detective Rogers and Tilly had both decided to offer the injured man their moral support. Four cerulean irises, shaded in the same exact color, a coincidence that would remain heartbreakingly unexplained.

"This is where the real suffering begins." Detective Weaver grumbled.

"Desk work isn't that bad." Detective Rogers reassured.

"I feel fine." The older man placed a gun holster on his belt, "I'm going back to work."

A discarded lunch tray rested on top of the bedside table, Tilly spotted a tiny jar of orange marmalade. Her stomach grumbled at the sight, she had developed a strange affinity for the citrus jam. The blonde snuck past the two bickering men, flopping against a chair near Detective Weaver's neglected meal.

"Well, Captain wants you to stick it out for at least a week." Detective Rogers insisted.

A faint squeak could be heard coming down the corridor, a female nurse appeared by the doorway. Pushing a wheelchair, she looked at Detective Weaver expectantly.

Without a word, the brown-haired man gave the hospital worker an irritated leer, a glint of frustration flared across his dark pupils. Perceiving the police officer's annoyance, she left the room quickly, abandoning the wheelchair. Detective Rogers was thoroughly amused, stifling a chuckle.

"I take it you want to walk out of here." Detective Rogers quipped. 

A chime rang out across the room, Detective Weaver inspected his mobile phone device. He lowered his head down, the man's eyes flickered, assessing the illuminated screen.

"That's right. I'm going to walk straight back to the precinct, have a word with the captain." Detective Weaver turned his attention toward the younger police officer, "In the meantime, keep your eyes on your phone. I might have some errands for you to run."

Full of purpose and intent, Detective Weaver pivoted around and marched toward the exit. The stern man felt compelled to kick the wheelchair as he stormed off, sauntering through the door with an commanding disposition.

Understanding Detective Weaver's departure as her own cue to leave, Tilly plucked the orange marmalade container from off the hospital lunch tray. She stood up, determined to get out of that suffocating room.

Taking a step to the side, Detective Rogers blocked the blonde's path. He grabbed Tilly's hand for a second, tugging her toward him. It felt strange, a comforting sensation that Tilly had not received in such a long time.

"I was hoping you might help me while Weaver's resting up." Detective Rogers must be desperate if he was willing to ask a homeless vagrant for assistance, "It's an important case. It's a missing girl. So, what do you and Weaver do when he needs help?"

Contemplating the request, Tilly stared into the raven-haired man's blue eyes, two azure irises that shined with a familiar glimmer. The blonde acted odd when she was in the presence of Detective Rogers. He had a sort of appeal that Tilly considered attractive, in a strictly platonic fashion, her sexuality continued to only favor members of the female gender.

"Hm." Tilly smirked, flouncing onto the wheelchair, "He buys me lunch."

Facial features shifting into a bemused expression, Detective Rogers wondered if Tilly was simply teasing him. She didn't behave maliciously, in fact, the notion of cruelty seemed to be a foreign concept to her.

Tilly's playful antics managed to convince the dark-haired man to agree with her whimsical stipulations. He could clearly see that the blonde wanted affection, and maybe the feeling had evaded Detective Rogers for some time as well, even if he wouldn't allow himself to admit it. 

"All right." Detective Rogers nodded.

Observing the bright grin that had spread across Tilly's face, the dark-haired man shuffled behind the wheelchair, both his functioning hand and the lifelike prosthetic adjusted on the levers. Detective Rogers rolled the Tilly out of the hospital room, hoping not to regret his decision to trust the blonde.

Tilly should have asked for a more direct form of payment, but she wanted to spend time with the intriguing man. Puzzles. Riddles. Games. The golden-haired girl reverted into a young child when confronted by a perplexing conundrum. Detective Rogers was a challenge, an enigma that Tilly needed to solve.

A reinvigorating sentiment warmed the blonde's heart when Detective Rogers was around. His handsome smile, compassionate twinkling eyes, he felt like the home that she had always longed for. The man bestowed Tilly with a sense of belonging, ignited the fire of curiosity.

It was a stimulating effect, different from the soothing buzz that Tilly experienced when Ivy Belfrey stood in close proximity. Ivy's touch, her aura, it felt hollow, like the brown-eyed girl were missing a magical spark. She sedated Tilly, quieting down the indistinguishable voices that echoed inside the blonde's mind. 

In comparative analysis, Detective Rogers produced an opposite reaction, he made the noises sound clearer and more concise. Evaluating the circumstances, Tilly would stay by the dark-haired man's side, at least until she could decipher the murmurs rattling against her skull, and uncover the messages that the whispered phrases were struggling to convey.


	53. Conniving Machinations

Chapter 53

Conniving Machinations

* * *

 

Perched upon its celestial throne built from white clouds, the sun showered radiant beams of light down onto a large landscape, glistening over the snow-capped mountain range. Illuminating the campsite grounds, bathing all the tents in an iridescent glow, the solar rays painted the fabric of the barracks with a yellowish-orange hue. 

Nightingales and multicolored sparrows chirped aloud, the birds were humming a festive tune. The pine trees and the tall grass appeared to be greener. The summer breeze felt warmer and softer. It almost seemed as if every living organism was celebrating the joyful occasion.

The birth of Lucy Mills, what a wondrous day. Faithful friends gathered around to see the little baby. Sincere smiles, thunderous applause, and gleeful cheers. Killian, Tiana, and Jack, three loyal confidantes who encircled Henry, congratulating the brown-haired man while Ella slept, recovering from the physical strain of bringing a child into this world.

"I'd like you all to meet Lucy." Henry eagerly introduced his daughter to three sets of compassionate eyes.

Henry held the tiny infant with both arms, bundled up inside a blanket. He cradled Lucy close to his chest. The idealistic man's mouth contorted into a smile, each one of his hopes and dreams were gleaming across Lucy's beady eyes. Henry finally understood what Regina saw in him, he knew how it felt like to be a parent.

"That is amazing." Jack teased, "Henry Mills is a father."

"Congratulations." Tiana grinned, "She looks strong."

"Uh, where's my mom? She should be here by now?" Henry inquired, the baby whimpering against his folded arms.

"Oh, Regina's fine." A voice crooned from behind Henry, "She's just a little detained."

Startled by the sudden statement, Henry spun around, coming face to face with Drizella Tremaine. She sneered at him, but her actions lacked conviction. There was something different about Drizella now. Her clothes were the same, the brunette's malicious smirk might be trying to portray an air of confidence, but she certainly did not behave like the arrogant young woman who had assaulted Henry in Wonderland.

Demonstrated by tiny changes in Drizella's appearance, a paler complexion, lips shaded an unhealthy shade of purple, a faint puffy redness beneath both eyes. Darkness and pain had consumed the raven-haired girl, up to the point that it seemed to have left a visible impression on her face.

Four people stared at the volatile sorceress, assuming a battle stance. Unsheathing his broad sword, Jack stood erect. Irritation flashed across beautiful features, Tiana gripped the handle of her blade. Nostrils flaring up, Henry embraced his daughter protectively.

"Stay away from my daughter." Henry growled.

"Such a worried papa." Drizella mocked cruelly, "No need to be. I'm only here to deliver a message. Well, more accurately, a prophecy. A curse is coming. On your darling child's eighth birthday, all your lives as you know them will end."

"Perhaps you misread the prophecy, love." Killian pointed his saber at Drizella, "Because you missed the part where we defeat you."

A familiar glint of determination sparkled across two cerulean irises, Killian Jones looked at Drizella with utter disdain. A flicker of recognition, for a second, she saw Alice, the blue-eyed man's charming daughter, the golden-haired girl who had broken Drizella's heart.

Lifting up her arms, Drizella was prepared to smite Killian with an offensive spell. She wanted to remove the smug grin from off his face. Misplaced anger, Drizella might never acquire an opportunity to confront Alice, this would have to suffice, unleashing her wrath on the blonde's father. What a petty jilted lover, Alice had reduced Drizella to a pitiful, temperamental little girl.

"Drizella, I wouldn't." Henry warned with a triumphant smirk, "Look down."

Both legs wobbled, feeling numb, Drizella lowered her gaze. A pool of liquefied concrete was manifesting under the brunette's feet; a wave of petrifying energy began to slowly engulf her. _Blood magic._ Pulse quickening with fear, Drizella realized that she had lost. The bewitchment would soon turn the young woman into a motionless statue.

"This is blood magic." Drizella snarled, "How is this possible?"

Stepping from outside the shadows, Lady Tremaine revealed herself. She glared at Drizella, her cobalt eyes only held contempt and disappointment for the raven-haired girl. It was poetic, how Lady Tremaine hated her daughter so much, the spiteful woman despised the vindictive monster that she had created.

"With a spatter of my blood, of course." Lady Tremaine quipped, "I simply can't have you casting the curse, dear."

Checkmate. Lady Tremaine was always one move ahead. Drizella didn't think that she could win, not when her mother had the ability to make allegiances with their mutual enemies. 

A pang of lament throbbing against the young woman's chest, an irony that she couldn't believe. Drizella had been betrayal so many times, she should have grown accustomed to the stinging sensation by now.

Crawling up both thighs, as the incantation started freezing the rest of Drizella's body, sparks converting her skin into cement, the brunette made a final menacing declaration.

"This changes nothing." Drizella proclaimed, "In eight years, I'll be back, and you'll learn what true suffering is."

A countermeasure, Drizella had also made a pact with a formidable nemesis. She might have to wait eight years, but vengeance was going to be hers. _Although Alice never would be._ A subconscious whisper, Drizella couldn't let go of the feelings that she held for the blonde. She resented the ardent yearning that ate away at her soul, and how nothing alleviated the ache caused by Alice's abandonment.

How desperately pathetic. The mineralizing hex spread across Drizella's chest, finishing the process of transforming the raven-haired girl into a statue, and her last thoughts were going to be of Alice. It was a saddening notion, but as Drizella's vision went black, the brunette knew that she would love Alice for the rest of her life, even if fate's whims had decided to renounce their union.

* * *

Roni's, the green neon sign shimmered, emitting an underlying electric buzz. Inside the scruffy property, an odor lingered through the ambience, the combined musky smell of cheap whiskey and cigarette smoke. The crackling noise created by flames, a fireplace remained lit up, a bunch of glittering embers allocated near the bar counter, probably a hazard. Although the rustic restaurant was deserted, the front doors remained opened.

A jingle rang out as a raven-haired girl entered the pub, Ivy Belfrey, she had dared to set foot inside the premises. Ivy spotted the owner, Roni, sitting on a stool, her back turned against the front of the establishment. An acerbic woman with dark, short curls. Brown piercing eyes, where a significant amount of loneliness resided. Much to Ivy's chagrin, she and Roni shared a great deal of many traits.

"Oh, my!" Ivy made her presence known, "There's no one here. Guess I must have missed your little Avengers assembly."

Sauntering across the main dining area, Ivy headed directly toward the bar. She spoke in a nonchalant and frivolous tone, performing the role of Ivy Belfrey, a vapid young woman who enjoyed making insipid remarks and popular culture references.

The older brunette was clearly engrossed in her own thoughts, quickly shoving a few papers back into a yellow envelope, hoping Ivy wouldn't see the documents. She surveyed Ivy with a suspicious stare, dark irises fixated on her unwelcomed guest. 

Wearing a sleeveless leopard-print shirt, accompanied by a wild and messy haircut, no doubt a tattoo adorned the raven-haired woman's skin at an inappropriate location on her body. Despite the drastic downgrade in fashionable glamor, Roni had not lost an ounce of the regal and elegant demeanor that her former self possessed.

"Shame, since I may have found more dirt." Ivy chimed, acting blissfully unaware of Roni's internal conflict.

Stifling down a smirk, Ivy realized that her scheme had been a success. Roni was investigating the past, uncovering information about her previous reincarnation, Regina Mills, the mayor of Storybrooke, the adoptive mother to a boy named Henry.

After slipping behind the counter, Ivy browsed through Roni's wide variety of alcoholic beverages. She noticed a bottle of a high-quality whiskey, the most expensive item on the rack. Ivy plucked the flask from the shelf, hiding the ulterior motives for her impromptu visit.

"I'm going to pour us something from the top shelf and then I'll talk." Ivy proposed.

A dry and bitter laugh erupted from Roni's throat. The woman may not remember Regina's hatred for Drizella, but she didn't trust Ivy at all. The curse had not lessened the older brunette's apprehensive and cautious nature.

"This better be good." Roni watched as Ivy commandeered her best selection of whiskey.

Ivy Belfrey's playful disposition shifted, a more sinister girl overtook her personality. If Tilly were here, she would perceive the transition automatically, an event that might be interpreted as an erratic mood change. The blonde was able to see the struggle within Ivy; she could distinguish between the resilient darkness and the fading light.

Pouring amber liquid into two glasses, Ivy stood with her back facing Roni. She procured a small vial from her sleeve, adding a full dose of serum that Eloise had concocted by harnessing the magical essence found in the hyacinths. 

Avoiding detection, the brunette wondered if her aptitude for sly hand tricks might rival Tilly's skills as a dexterous thief. Ivy spun around, serving the bar proprietor a beverage from her own establishment. She waited patiently, until Roni took a sip of the intoxicated whiskey.

"So what did you find?" Roni asked, taking a swig from the glass.

"Actually, this is all about what _you_ found." Ivy confessed vaguely, swirling her own beverage.

"What are you talking about?" Roni had gulped down Ivy's personalized mixture of hard liquor and magic elixir.

"See, I needed you to go on your little adventure today with Lucy." Ivy divulged, her voice laced with malicious intent, "I needed you to start asking yourself, 'What if the photo is real? What if all of Henry's fairy tales were true?' Because once you start asking yourself those questions your little brain is all warmed up, and I can push it right over the edge."

"Did you put something in my drink?" Roni looked dizzy, assessing the empty glass in her hand.

Countless emotions and sentiments swept across the raven-haired woman's face. A voluminous amount of memories came flooding back to her, as violent and tempestuous as a gargantuan wave. A monumental epiphany, in an instant, Roni ceased to exist, and Regina Mills resurfaced from the corners of an altered mind.

A sharp exhale of breath, Regina emerged from out of a deep trance, supporting herself by using both hands to push up against the polished bar counter. She was still disoriented, eyes glazed over with confusion and incertitude. 

"Welcome back, Regina." Ivy smirked.

"Drizella." Regina's fire had returned.

"Oh, did you miss me?" Ivy taunted, her mouth unveiling a sassy little grin.

Making the motion to lunge over the bar counter, Regina balled her fingers into a choking gesture, attempting to summon a combative spell, but to no avail. With an exasperated grunt, Regina recalled how magic was rendered useless in this realm. A frustrated grimace became plastered across Regina's face. 

"Oh, sorry!" Ivy feigned an apology, "Land Without Magic. Well, just enough to wake you up."

Ivy held an empty vial in her palm, Eloise's peculiar brew, composed of the enchanting hyacinth nectar, the reason why Regina had been awakened from the curse. The raven-haired girl mocked her old mentor, an undertone of bitterness and heartache, the foreboding animosity infected the atmosphere.

A vibrating sound interrupted the battle of wills between the two stubborn women. Regina's mobile phone device, or rather _Roni's_ , rattled against the wooden surface of the bar counter. Its small screen lit up, displaying a name, Henry, the prodigal son.

" _Henry_." Regina murmured.

"I wouldn't answer that if I were you." Ivy warned, "Henry can't know about this."

"Then why the hell did you wake me up?" Regina snapped. 

"Hm. Your mind might be a little foggy from your nap." Ivy teased, "Just give it a minute."

An important detail rushed back to Regina's mind, her eyebrows scrunched up with despair, brown irises glossed over by discernment. Regina frowned, noting the coy smirk on Ivy's face. How the older woman longed to wipe it off.

"There it is. It's all coming back." Ivy looked proud of herself, "Now, you told me that a hero always breaks the curse, so I made mine hero-proof. Do you remember what I did right before the curse was cast and why you can't ever allow it to be broken? You do remember. If the curse is broken, something very bad happens to the people you love."

Pure scorn radiated off from Regina, she could barely contain her aggression. The raven-haired woman wanted to jump across the bar counter and punch Ivy in the jaw, to bash the pretentious brunette until she forgot how to spell her own ridiculously ugly name. _Drizella_ , the treacherous pupil who continued to disillusion Regina, corrupting all the trust that the older sorceress had given her.

"You should be proud." Ivy announced happily, "You know you're a great teacher when the student surpasses the master."

"And what do you want, huh? You want a gold star?" Regina huffed, "Or did you just wake me to gloat?"

How foolish, Regina mused to herself, she was demanding an honest answer from deceptive creature. Beneath all the calculating lies and superficial pride, laid a miserable girl who would never be worthy of love.

"As much fun as that is, no." Ivy placed her whiskey glass down, "I woke you up because I need your help. I am on the verge of showing my mother what true suffering is. I can't have anyone breaking the curse now."

"You mean Henry and Jaci-" Regina paused to correct herself, "Cinderella."

"We both know you will do whatever it takes to stop true love's kiss from happening. That shouldn't be too hard for the Evil Queen, right?" Ivy spat with an odd tone, more somber than haughty, "After all, breaking hearts is kind of what you're best at."

Storming away from the bar, Ivy clasped the metallic chain strap of her handbag. Rambunctious thuds, plastic heels stomping on a textile floor. She prayed that Regina had failed to sense the twinge of hurt in her parting words. A glorious victor didn't want to induce sympathy.

An awful truth nestled against the young woman's left breast, the knowledge that Regina used to make the brunette feel appreciated. For a while, Ivy truly believed that she had found a maternal figure within the endearing mentor. The fantasy was shattered by her mother's conniving machinations and the raven-haired girl's own antagonizing vexation.

Navigating through the sidewalk, lamp posts blinked, the young woman suppressed the enkindling blaze of Drizella's spirit, burying the person that once was deep inside her core, reconstructing an impeccable disguise. Ivy Belfrey. The sarcastic, rich girl with an icy exterior but a compassionate heart, the costume that had earned Tilly's unwavering affections.

Clear and empty streets, the lunar refulgence casted a silvery luster over the pavement. The unwinding path might be lonely and desolate, but the brunette's feet knew where to take her. In Hyperion Heights, an artificial neighborhood woven together from fallacies and calumniation, there was only a single place that felt real to Ivy Belfrey, far more so than even her own existence.


	54. Reckless Endeavors

Chapter 54

Reckless Endeavors

* * *

 

In most fairytales and fables, a witch is considered to be the main antagonist, a villainous female character, armed with formidable and malevolent magic. Spells. Incantations. Hexes. These wretched sorceresses were powerful, able to summon supernatural forces that could easily desecrate their enemies.

Out of all the witches that had reigned across the enchanted realms, none were more feared and venerated as Regina Mills, formerly known by the moniker of 'Evil Queen.' Raven curls and dark eyes, the woman's beauty was only rivaled her strength. Curses. Afflictions. Conjurings. Regina must have collected quite an assortment of skills, enough to transport her entire kingdom to a different dimension, the picturesque town of Storybrooke, Maine. 

Equipped with a similar nickname and an ambition for malice, her older sister, Zelena, became called the 'Wicked Witch of the West.' Orange tresses to frame a pair of mischievous aquamarine irises, the woman's complexion was said to suffer from some kind of disease, an ailment that gave her skin a green pigmentation. She kept the condition hidden through glamors and illusions, but the rumors about her abnormal appearance persisted.

During the course of their youth, the two women committed many atrocious acts and heinous deeds. Misguided by selfish wishes and arbitrary desires, each sister earned a nefarious reputation, performing an antagonistic role in someone else's narrative. Reformed throughout the years, scorned foes turned into loyal friends, motherhood had a redemptive effect on both Regina and Zelena, their children became a priority, the cure to the repressed hatred that they harbored for an unjust life.

When Henry Mills decided to embark on a journey of self-actualization, Regina didn't hesitate to join him. Her universe revolved around the handsome boy, the beloved son that had saved his mother's soul from an eternity of darkness. If Henry wanted to set a trajectory toward the edge of the world, Regina would gladly be right there by his side. 

On the other hand, Robin Mills had never felt such a strong affinity with her mother, Zelena. Maybe both of them were too alike, headstrong and temperamental. Whatever the case was, the young girl and the older woman just didn't have an amicable bond. Robin gravitated more toward her aunt, relying on Regina for advice about magic and witchcraft.

Perhaps Robin wanted to prove herself, as both the niece and the daughter of two legendary witches, she had high standards to uphold. Having lost the gift of magic, a price that she paid for misusing her powers, Zelena couldn't really teach her daughter how to become a competent sorceress. A rift started to form between Robin and the red-haired woman, a chasm that continued to expand.

"Rise up, Goddess." A female voice echoed from within an isolated lair, "Feel our flame. Rise up, Goddess. Take thy spear."

Candles perched on tall candelabras, providing a faint light to combat the darkness cluttering along the chambers. Full of cobwebs and shadows, the windowless room was the perfect place to conduct a ritual. Liquid boiled from inside an enormous kettle, a dark potion, shimmering with a red glow.

Three hooded figures stood, encircling the black cauldron. The young women were dabbling with concepts way beyond their naive comprehension. One of them held an old book, opened to a specific page, guiding the other girls in an eerie chant, reciting purposeful phrases. 

"We raise our voices in your name. Our faces bowed in fear." The words resonated through the four enclosed walls, "Our faces bowed to you."

A stern diction, each syllable was enunciated eloquently, the leader dipped a small vial into the bubbling concoction. She scooped some of the fluid, filling the glass bottle with the strange brew. 

Sudden harmonious music, a melody chimed across the room, prompting one of the hooded figures to remove her cloak, revealing a youthful face and black hair. She pulled out a mobile phone device, glancing at the illuminated screen with a grimace.

"Ugh, sorry. It's my mom. Family's having dinner at Granny's." The brunette looked at the leader sheepishly, "And she'll kill me if I skip out."

The leader imitated the action, flipping back the cloak's hood to expose herself. A golden-haired braid dangled down, Robin Mills wore an irritated expression, diminishing her otherwise attractive features. A pair of bright green eyes stared at the raven-haired girl, resembling two spherical emerald earrings pinned to a jewelry case.

"Seriously? Come on. Can't you just bail?" Robin whined, "We're almost done with the spell. We just need five more minutes."

With a hand, Robin gestured toward the misty pot in front of them. The spell required three participants, the blonde needed her two friends to be there.

"We've been at it for hours, And you still can't make it work." The other girl pointed out, "Your mom might be the Wicked Witch, but, Robin, you got a ways to go in the magic department."

Anger flickered across the darkened olive irises. Robin usually hated being compared to her mother, but it was even more distressing when the comments were meant to remind the young blonde of her own shortcomings.

"Fine. _Go_. Enjoy your lasagna." Robin sneered, "I'm doing this." 

As an ancient idiom states, speak of the devil and he shall appear. A distressed voice boomed throughout the confined space, an elegant red-haired woman stepped inside the room, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.

"All right. That's it." Zelena yelled, "Spell time's over. Everyone out. Now!" 

Glaring into the secluded room as she stood in the hallway, a lone light coming from the ceiling shined upon the former witch, her azure eyes flashing with displeasure. Even a tiny piece of Robin had to admit, Zelena was extremely intimidating.

Both of Robin's friends scurried out of the chambers, not daring to defy Zelena's wishes. The older woman might be magically impaired, but that didn't lessen her commanding presence. 

"Hello?" Zelena addressed her daughter, "We're going, too." 

Waving her hands, Zelena attempted to emphasize a maternal authority over Robin. The blue-eyed woman wondered how the once mighty 'Wicked Witch of the West' had been reduced to simply being a petulant girl's overly concerned mother.

"Oh, come on! Just let me finish this." Robin begged, "I worked really hard on it!"

"Absolutely not." Zelena huffed, entering the narrow lair, "And how did you even get in this vault anyway?"

"Aunt Regina gave me Grandma's spell book before she went for Henry." Robin stated, her voice laced with defiance.

"Regina gave you a spell book?" Zelena could feel a migraine developing against her skull. 

"Yeah, because she's cool." Robin retorted, "Not so uptight."

"Yes, well, Regina isn't your mother, I am." Zelena was about to lose her temper. 

"Yeah, I don't need a reminder." Robin spat. 

It shouldn't come as a surprise that the offspring of Robin Hood and the Wicked Witch of the West would rebel against authority figures, but Zelena was growing tired of her daughter's insolence. She snatched away the book from the blonde's hands. _Aunt Regina_. As far as sentimental family heirlooms go, a binder full of ancient spells didn't seem like an appropriate gift.

"You have got a lot to learn." Zelena warned, "You're playing with fire!"

"The only reason you think magic is dangerous is because you don't have it anymore!" Robin yelled.

Zelena would be lying if she said that Robin's snide remark hadn't hurt her feelings. The downside of becoming a reformed villain was losing the ability to garner respect through fierce intimidation and fear tactics.

"We're going home." Zelena barked, "And I'm taking your phone."

"I'm eighteen." Robin declared, "You can't control me."

On a scale from one to ten, with the higher number correlating to how much of an annoyance Robin was being, Zelena would have to agree, the blonde had definitely been pushing beyond an eighteen.

"You're still in school, and I pay the bills, so yes, I do control you." Zelena frowned.

"Fine." Robin groused, pulling out her mobile phone device and slamming the gadget into Zelena’s hand, "Take it. But I'm going _alone_. I've had enough 'mothering' for one day for a lifetime."

Zelena glanced back as her daughter departed, holding the spell book in both hands. She would wait until Robin calmed down. Both of them were stubborn, Zelena thought that she shouldn't provoke the blonde any further. 

The green-eyed girl marched out of Regina's secret chambers, exiting through the stone gates, and stepping into the forest. The darkness of the night surprised Robin, she didn't realize that the sun had already set. A chilly breeze sent a shiver down the blonde's spin.

Trudging along the path, feet dragging across the dirt, Robin felt an odd sensation against palm. The vial of the mysterious potion that she had created with her friends was reacting. Fingers failing to maintain a firm grip, the glass bottle fell to the ground, shattering into a million pieces.

The black liquid transformed into a dark thick smoke, a mist that slithered toward Robin. Fumes started to spiral around the young woman, clouding her vision. A magic burn sparked across Robin's skin, inducing an outbreak of goosebumps along her arms. It was tragic, how so many people's fates would change in a second, just because an impulsive girl wanted to meddle with witchcraft.

Engulfed by a blinding fog, the clever young woman knew that she was unable to do anything to stop the cursed haze. A summoning spell had been effectively conjured. An involuntary pawn, a milestone to a much greater scheme. Robin could not have possibly predicted the dreadful consequences of her reckless endeavors, or the severe repercussions that these actions would produce, but as the old idiom goes; be careful what you wish for.

* * *

A steel container amplifies the volume and intensity of a sound. Within an enclosed space, the vibrations resonate through the solid panels, creating a thunderous boom. The concept applies to the cymbals on a drum set. When a musician strikes these round, metal disks, a deafening noise can be procured.

Knocking against an iron transport container had the same adverse effect. Clank. Clank. Clank. The shrill creaks reverberated through the encasement, causing a sonorous racket, attuned to the melodic tempo of three bangs. Someone kept hitting the door, under the belief that the shipping crate was an actual residence.

Awakened with a jolt, Tilly placed both hands on her ears, wincing from the pain. Stifling a yawn, the young woman stretched her limbs. Disoriented amidst the darkness, she stumbled up to her feet. Groggy and sleepy, she groaned. Fingers searched for a light switch, clicking the tiny plastic lever. A fluorescent glow enveloped the makeshift home, lamps that Tilly had recently installed. She blinked, pupils adjusting to the sudden brightness.

Clad in only a brassiere and her underwear, the blonde scrambled to locate some pants. A half-eaten can of red beans. A few sketches spread across the floor. Chess pieces on a crooked table. Blue eyes scanned the messy surroundings, she snatched a familiar pair of black leggings, slipping into the elastic garment.

"Tilly? It's me." A female voice called out from the container's exterior.

The unseen guest invoked an instantaneous reaction, Tilly grabbed a shirt and covered herself up with the loose garment. She hurried toward the door, pushing open the hatch slowly. Her face lit up as soon as she spotted Ivy standing on the other side. Despite being disturbed at such a late hour, a smile erupted across Tilly's face when she saw the raven-haired girl. Melancholic auburn irises stared deeply into a pair of cheerful azure eyes, begging for something that only Tilly could grant. 

"Ivy?" Tilly wondered why the brunette was visiting her in the middle of night.

"Sorry, I woke you up, didn't I?" Ivy folded her arms, nervously tapping a foot.

"Yeah, but it's fine." Tilly nodded reassuringly, trying to act as if she wasn't irrefutably exhausted.

Raking a hand through a mane of unruly golden curls, the blonde gave Ivy a lopsided smirk. The neckline of Tilly's shirt was crooked, exposing a portion of her shoulder. Such a carefree disposition, Tilly's low-maintenance appearance had an unexpected effect on the raven-haired girl. Tilly's charm always seemed to fluster Ivy.

A blush crept its way across Ivy's face, she stared into Tilly's eyes, rendered momentarily speechless. The brunette forgot why she was here in the first place. Perhaps Ivy wanted to be in the presence of someone who didn't utterly despite her. Maybe she just had to see Tilly and reaffirm that their feelings for one another were real.

"I just, I-" Ivy opened her mouth, tentatively began a statement, but no more words came out.

Twitching up an eyebrow, Tilly took a step forward, reaching out for the brunette. Her fingers coiled around one of Ivy's misplaced curls, tucking the disobedient hair strand behind the smaller girl's ear. Lips pressed together to form a soft smile, Tilly gazed upon Ivy Belfrey with absolute adoration.

"Whatever you want, Ivy. I have already made it pretty clear, but in case you need a reminder-" Tilly paused for dramatic effect, "I love you." 

Tilly's proclamation was exactly what Ivy needed. Her jaw clenched, fingernails digging into one arm, she flinched away, shrugging off Tilly's hand. Head shaking in denial, the brunette didn't want to believe Tilly, she refused to let hope worm its way into her heart. A grimace distorted Ivy's face. She couldn't accept the golden-haired girl's love.

“You c-can't- You don't-” Ivy stuttered, unable to get out most of the sentence, struggling through it like it physically pained her. 

"But I _can_ , and I _do_." Tilly's voice didn't falter, "Now, just tell me, what do you need?"

These mood changes, Ivy was impossible to understand. Tilly knew that a constant battle occurred underneath those two auburn irises, within the deep abyss of Ivy’s dark pupils. Trifling and never-ending, an internal skirmish ensued, a clash between the violent demons that tormented Ivy and the girl's own ardent desire to fully trust Tilly's declarations.

Eyes glazed over with emotion, Tilly's conviction had managed to alleviate Ivy's doubts. Instead of providing a verbal response, she answered by throwing her arms around Tilly's neck. The embrace started off awkward, the blonde stiffening in surprise, but then she relaxed, allowing her hands to latch onto Ivy's hips, drawing the smaller girl closer.

As both young women stood there, Tilly couldn’t help but catalogue every millisecond of this moment. Without the typical heels, Ivy was quite a bit shorter than her, and as a result, the brunette's chin became an adequate height to rest on Tilly's shoulder. The way that Ivy’s breath tickled the side of the blonde's collarbone. The softness of Ivy’s cheek against her face. The subtle spiciness of the raven-haired girl’s expensive perfume, understated and alluring, enveloped Tilly's senses. 

Slipping a hand under the smooth, cool material of Ivy’s leather jacket, Tilly could feel the light flex of muscles across the brunette’s back. A bold move, she massaged the tense tissue, her fingertips grazing Ivy's bare skin. Tilly heard no cries of protest from the other girl, on the contrary, a content sigh escaped Ivy's parted lips. 

As Ivy's nose brushed along the nape of Tilly's neck, the taller girl adjusted the tender hold, allowing the brunette's head to nestle beneath her chin. Settled against Tilly's throat, able to feel the young woman's steady pulse, Ivy felt relief cascade over her. Acclimated and tamed, she nuzzled into Tilly's chest.

An inarguably magical achievement, how their bodies fused together at a thousand different points, fitting within one another like two halves of a whole. Tilly's anxious heart started thudding quickly, so hard that she assumed Ivy must be able to hear each blood vessel pumping against the blonde's breastbone. If this was what Ivy craved, if she had journeyed across the city's vast expanse just to hug a homeless girl, then so be it. Tilly decided a long time ago that she would never dare to deny a request coming from Miss Ivy Belfrey.


	55. Possible Repercussions

Chapter 55

Possible Repercussions

* * *

 

Shimmering candles polluted the room, blazing flames whose light was filtered through vials of multicolored potions, creating a prism display of silhouettes along the wall. Cobwebs adorned each corner of the ceiling, mold lined up the floor. Skulls stacked up on top of a wooden counter, ceramic jars rested along a high shelf.

A veil of thick dust coated the surface of a circular table. Trailing a finger across the layer of grim, Robin absentmindedly traced squiggly pattern with her nail. For a witch's lair, the place lacked a good supply of cauldrons and kettles. The furnishings were rather rustic and old-fashioned. Her green eyes roamed around the dark premises, casually browsing through the room's contents.

The consequences of an odd spell, Robin Mills found herself in the middle of a witch's residence. The golden-haired girl would be scared if she wasn't so disoriented. After the teleporting fog dissipated, her environment had completely shifted, from a coniferous forest to a macabre catacomb. Robin knew that she might not even be in her native realm anymore.

The morbid living quarters suffered from a deficiency of windows and adequate illumination, but was brimming with looming shadows and absolute darkness. Robin wondered why the incantation had transported her here, a quaint, little hex relating to nature shouldn't cause such adverse effects.

It was a bit stuffy, the encased space generated a musky and hot atmosphere. Sweat beading on Robin's forehead, she removed her large cloak, revealing a posh school uniform. A fitted blazer, a dress shirt, and a matching skirt, the blonde's outfit didn't suit the ritualistic surroundings, her elegant apparel made a sharp contrast with the sinister setting. Loosening the tightly clasped tie over her neck, Robin released a sigh of relief.

"Hello, dear." A woman appeared before Robin.

A haggard robe draped around her, long strands of orange hair hung from the woman's scalp, grotesque tendrils that resembled rope or yarn. For the most part, she looked like a stereotypical witch, albeit moderately attractive facial features. Her cerulean irises glimmered with enchantment and mystery.

"My name is Mother Gothel." The woman introduced herself, "I take it that you were trying to summon mother nature?" 

"To be frank, I didn't really know what I was doing." Robin admitted, toying with a stray wisp of hair between her index finger and thumb, "But well, a fume of smoke, and voila! Here I am."

Craning her head to the side, Mother Gothel appraised Robin's appearance, her pupils narrowing down like the bifocals of a camera lens. It almost seemed as if the woman had been anticipating someone else, and Robin was not quite measuring up to her expectations.

Penetrating blue clashed against inquisitive green, two sets of eyes were locked in an ardent glare. Mouth twisting into a confident smirk, Robin stared back at Mother Gothel with an amused expression. The young woman's arrogance outweighed her sense of self-preservation.

"Do you _fancy_ women?" Mother Gothel's gaze traveled up and down Robin's figure, analytically surveying the taller girl.

Scrunching up her nose, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, the blonde crossed her arms. Several emotions flashed across Robin's face, perplexed by how an enigmatic witch was assessing her sexuality.

Having inherited Zelena's aptitude for inappropriate snark, the golden-haired girl grinned smugly at Mother Gothel. She refused to let the woman belittle her with invasive questions.

"Well, women who are around my age." Robin teased, "You're a bit too old, no offense."

"Oh my, aren't you charming?" Mother Gothel giggled, as if Robin was part of a joke that only she knew the punchline of, "Now, if you managed to conjure a path to me, then you must be a very powerful witch."

"Hm. I guess that's right." Robin was unprepared for a compliment to counter her insult.

"Now, if you agree to my terms and conditions, I have much to teach you." Mother Gothel crooned, "So, do you agree?" 

"And what terms are those?" Robin became curious, but not enough to make a binding oath to a strange witch without receiving more reassurances.

Jerking her wrist, Mother Gothel procured a steel pin, holding the sharp, minuscule object between two of her fingers. The woman smiled warmly as she approached Robin, seizing one of the blonde's wrists.

"Give me a willing drop of your blood. Voice your consent aloud." Mother Gothel proposed, "Of course, I promise, I will never use this blood to harm you. It's just that, willingly given blood from a young witch is a hard to attain." 

"One drop?" Robin tilted her head, "And you won't use the blood against me _or_ my family?"

"I swear." Mother Gothel nodded, "Blood that is willing given can be used as an ingredient for only benign spells, I assure you. But a verbal contract must exist."

"Hm." Robin pondered her choices, "And you'll teach me how to be a better witch?"

"Yes." Mother Gothel stated firmly, an unknown sentiment flickered across her face, "I've been looking for someone like you- For a pupil."

Contemplating the possible repercussions of forming a blood pact with a witch, Robin knew that this might be a bad idea, but she yearned to be a full-fledged sorceress, like her mother.

"Then you have my consent." Robin relented, uncoiling a finger.

Mother Gothel's face lit up, grinning as she pricked the blonde's digit with the needle, a small blotch of red fluid clung to the metal stick. The blue-eyed woman released her hold on Robin's hand, eager to place the blood droplet inside a glass vial.

When compared to the atrocities that other people have committed, Robin's impulsive act of granting Mother Gothel permission to poke her finger was not the most awful deed imaginable. Other misguided young girls had done far worse things in the name of pride.

Those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat the same incidents. Robin was so blinded by her frivolous argument with Zelena that she lost perspective of how dangerous it might be to accept a witch's offer. In a way, Robin had accomplished what she wanted, successful following along the steps of other Mills women. A sacred vow, aligned to a dastardly fiend, she joined the never-ending list of family members who made horrible decisions while under the influence of pettiness and spite.

* * *

The aroma of coffee infected the air, the potent smell of grounded beans became concentrated inside the enclosed container. A rich, fresh essence, filled with an assortment of scents, spices and caramel. The odor was easily recognizable, slithering through the shipping crate, and sweeping across the narrow compartment.

Wrinkling her nose, Ivy stirred awake from her peaceful slumber. The raven-haired girl's senses were tingling as she perceived the scrumptious fragrance of her favorite beverage. Eyelids blinked open, Ivy was tangled up in a bundle of blankets and quilts, sprawled over a small cot, resting on her side. A pillow had been placed under the brunette's head, cushioning her against the stiff mattress.

Gentle fingers threaded through Ivy's short curls, caressing her scalp with a loving tenderness. For many years, Ivy had not been able to sleep properly, plagued by countless unpleasant dreams. Last night was different, a much-needed reprieve from the confines of reality. She stretched and yawned, making a slow motion to sit upright. 

The hand massaging Ivy's head halted any further activity, pulling away from the brunette. Rubbing both eyes, Ivy's visual receptors adjusted to her current state of consciousness. Leather jacket, narrow skirt, silk blouse, all of the brunette's clothes remained situated on her body, even if the garments were a bit frazzled. Only Ivy's shoes had been removed. Mind lost within a haze, it took her a few seconds to remember where she was.

"Good morning, Ives." Tilly chirped, bestowing the groggy girl with an impromptu nickname.

"Morning." Ivy grumbled, running a hand through her hair, wondering if she looked awful to Tilly without any makeup or cosmetic enhancements.

As Ivy slumped on the surrogate bed, Tilly sat next to her, both legs crossed. She was fully dressed, energetic and jovial. While waiting for the raven-haired girl to awaken, the blonde must have decided to fetch some breakfast treats. Ivy smiled to herself. Being greeted by Tilly, holding a cup of delicious coffee and a chocolate-chip muffin with a lit purple candlestick, there would never be a more endearing exposition.

"Happy-"

"It's still not my birthday yet." Ivy interjected, blowing out the tiny flame quickly.

Tilly's obsession with astrology and astronomy stemmed from her traumatic ordeals as Alice. Stars, cupcakes, birthdays, it all mixed together to form this entertaining fixation.

Ivy felt guilty, but the blonde's unwavering attention had become way too gratifying. She couldn't abstain from indulging herself. Tilly's happiness was infectious, and Ivy craved it like a drug.

"Well then, I also made you some coffee." Tilly presented Ivy with a cardboard cup, bobbing her toward the coffee maker that was stationed on a crate, "Black, just like your h-"

"Heart?" Ivy chimed in, laughing dryly at her own self-deprecating quip.

" _Hair_." Tilly amended, frowning at the other girl's suggestion.

Even though the icy young woman had always exhibited a penchant for making offensive remarks, such as snapping at Tilly with a cruel statement or two, the blonde couldn't tolerate hearing Ivy berate herself. It was just very off-putting. 

"Is something wrong?" Tilly placed a comforting hand on Ivy's shoulder.

Dark, bubbling with amber foam, a strongly brewed batch of the caffeinated brown fluid. Ivy took a small swig of the coffee, and scooted near to her concerned companion. She slouched her head against Tilly's neck, earning an immediate reaction from the blonde.

Tilly wasted no time in draping an arm around the smaller girl's shoulders. She squeezed Ivy tightly, letting the brunette nuzzle into the crook of her collarbone. Tilly held the muffin up, silently offering Ivy the baked good. As if the young woman's palm was a plate, Ivy used her index finger and thumb to break off pieces of the sugary treat.

"Want some?" Ivy lifted up a portion of the sponge dessert to Tilly's mouth.

"Nah, it's all yours." Tilly cooed, leaning in to press a kiss on the brunette's forehead.

Ivy thought about reprimanding Tilly for the reckless gesture of affection, but as the blonde's lips brushed against her skin, she couldn't find the will to resist. Kisses on the forehead were grossly underrated. 

Seconds culminated into minutes that felt like hours but were only moments. By bending an elbow, Tilly's hand settled on Ivy's ebony curls, repeating the ministrations that she had been performing earlier in the morning.

Ivy nibbled away at the pastry, chipping off morsels and plopping them into her mouth, alternating between sips of coffee. Tilly allowed the brunette to enjoy the meal in quietude, intuitively understanding that Ivy just needed some warmth and repose.

Through Tilly's soft touches, Ivy achieved a relative form of serenity. She permitted her gaze to wander across the room, noticing that the center table had a chess mat. Based on the positioning of the white and black figurines, the game was reaching its end. She grinned, amused by the knowledge that Tilly must have been partaking in a match with herself.

"Were you playing with yourself?" Ivy asked, pointing at the shuffled chess pieces.

Raising an eyebrow up suggestively, Tilly smirked in a mischievous fashion. She quickly concocted a plan to deliver a clever joke, because nothing had ever made Tilly's heart swell more than the sound of Ivy's laughter.

" _Yes_." Tilly nodded, "But if you mean, was I playing chess with myself? Then the answer is _no_. Detective Rogers was engaged in a heated match against me."

A crimson blush flared across Ivy's cheeks, her mind focused on the implications alluded to by the first part of the blonde's answer. She nudged Tilly in the stomach, biting her lower lip to stifle a treacherous giggle.

Flipping back her hair, Ivy grinned like an conflicted mother who was trying to refrain from laughing at an inappropriate comment that her child uttered. A humorous, but accurate comparison, Tilly could be rather crass and immature.

Detective Rogers. A sudden thumping against Ivy's chest, heart throbbing in fear, she became aware of how troubling the entire situation might be. The dark-haired man with Tilly's cerulean eyes was a problem. Killian Jones. Such a potent threat to Ivy's plans. He could induce dangerous memories, resuscitate Alice's faded ghost.

Ivy began wiping crumbs from off her hands, at a deliberately sluggish pace, maintaining a semblance of composure. She didn't want Tilly to notice her mood shift. Auburn eyes avoided the blonde's penetrating gaze, Ivy made a harmless inquiry.

"Why was Detective Rogers here?" Ivy tried to sound casual, "Are you in some sort of trouble?"

"Well, I-" Tilly paused, debating whether Ivy should know about her incident with Detective Weaver.

Full-disclosure, a healthy relationship demanded total honesty, and yet, Tilly couldn't find a way to admit that she had shot a police officer. If Ivy knew about the blonde's mental illness, whatever was transpiring between them, might come to an abrupt end.

During Tilly's internal struggle, her hand glided toward Ivy's arm of their own accord. Two sets of fingers interlacing, the blonde sought out comfort, and Ivy was more than happy to oblige.

"I shot Detective Weaver. He's the friend that I was visiting at the hospital. I have a type of psychosis, and every day, I take these weird, blue pills to keep my mind clear. But I, I guess that I was off them for a while, and everything became hazy." Tilly divulged, encouraged by how Ivy had not released her hand, "I was helping his partner, Detective Rogers, because I felt guilty. So, there you have it. I am not only a homeless orphan, I'm also crazy. What a catch, right?"

Weird, blue pills. Ivy's brain was triggered by the phrase. The specific color, coinciding with the shade of hyacinths, the flower that held magical properties. This strange medication prevented Alice from resurfacing to the forefront of the blonde's mind. Ivy's breath hitched, Henry and Jacinda breaking the curse ceased to be her only concern, she needed Tilly to abide to the daily regimen of enchanted narcotics.

The several minutes of perpetual silence were unnerving. Tilly didn't feel brave enough to look at Ivy. Misinterpreting the absence of words as the ominous indicator that Ivy was about to reject her, Tilly braced for an onslaught of hateful comments. No doubt existed inside the golden-haired girl's mind, an overwhelming beautiful and elegant young woman deserved a much better suitor than an insane drifter. Tick-tock. Ivy had been squandering away time with Tilly.

"Promise me that you won't stop taking your medication, Tilly." Ivy whispered, squeezing the blonde's hand gently, "Promise me, please?"

Ivy's pleading murmurs were bewitching, melodic and subdued like the phrases of a spell. Head twisting to face the raven-haired girl, Tilly had not foreseen such a sympathetic reaction.

Bringing a hand up to cradle one of Tilly's cheeks, Ivy ran her finger across the blonde's jawline, tracing the birthmarks and freckled that adorned the smooth skin. Small blemishes, unforgettable to Ivy, the tip of her nail slid across Tilly's flesh.

"Please?" Ivy beckoned once more.

The golden-haired girl lost herself within two mesmerizing brown eyes, drowning inside the core of their pupils, unable to swim against the current of Ivy's gravitational pull. Hypnotized, Tilly had been reduced to a tamed cobra, entranced by Ivy's skills as a snake charmer. She gave the brunette a solemn nod, unable to formulate a sentence that could adequately convey her feelings.

"Good." Ivy grinned genuinely, exposing her dimples, "Now, what did Detective Rogers need you to do for him?"

Tilly wasn't sure if she should be grateful for the haste change of subject, or worried about the fact that Ivy didn't seem to care about how the blonde had literally confessed to shooting a man because of her mental instability. Perhaps conforming to the current flow of conversation would be wiser than to draw attention to the severity of her transgressions.

"He needed me to help him find a missing girl. I'm bad with names but- Hm. I think it was, Edith- Um. Elizabeth Garner? No, that's not it." Tilly crumbled her nose up pensively, "Oh! Eloise Gardener, that's her name!"

 _Eloise Gardener_. The case of the missing girl, a pending mystery that Detective Rogers was obsessed currently with, what a wondrous coincidence. Checkmate. In his noble efforts to uphold justice and virtue, the inquisitive man had helped Ivy win her own chess match.

After slightly adjusting her posture, Ivy dropped her head onto the blonde's shoulder, grinning like a cat who had just been given a bowl of scrumptious milk. Sighing in contentment, she relished these soothing intervals with Tilly.

"Tell me more." Ivy hummed, eager to listen to one of Tilly's rants.

Those three syllables were persuasive enough to compel Tilly into rambling on about an assortment of topics. The highlight of her day would be trying to sell a supply of stolen watches, and hoping to see that Detective Weaver's condition was improving.  

Pivoting the train of thought to a different theme, Tilly recollected her experiences with Detective Rogers. The blonde evidently appreciated his amicable behavior toward a dangerous street urchin, a self-imposed label that Ivy didn't enjoy. Flakes of Tilly's insecurities fluttered through the cracks, urging Ivy to realize that both of them were wearing masks.

At least the budding friendship with Detective Rogers was lessening Tilly's loneliness. Some things never change. Ivy mused to herself, listening to the blonde recite all the qualities that she admired from the police officer. A magnetic force tugged Tilly toward the man who had been her father in a past incarnation, and Ivy ruminated about how much of Alice's soul still resided inside of the young woman. 

Dispelling those pesky worries, Ivy chose to aim her concentration to the future. Alice would soon be an inconsequential nuisance, a fleeting apparition from an existence that no longer mattered. Events were adhering to Ivy's meticulous calculations, and for the first time in the brunette's life, she felt like fate was firmly on her side.


	56. Beautiful Lies

Chapter 56

Beautiful Lies

* * *

 

The desiccated bottom mandible of some large reptile laid on the wooden surface of a circular table. An enclosed room without any exits. The decor was composed of dust, mold, darkness, and cobwebs, an eerie and sinister mixture. Jars of poison, bottle of venom, flasks of toxic powders. Any single one of these morbid furnishings should be terrifying enough to frighten the average person.

At the center of the compartment, perched over a pedestal, a crystal ball was allocated on top of a rusted iron base. The glass contained the soul of an enchantress, Madame Leota, who for all intents and purposes, had been reduced to a ghastly floating head inside of a quartz sphere. Given the peculiar assortment of ornaments, an individual with common sense would immediately vacate the premises.

Robin Mills, an unpredictable outlier. Either too brave or impossibly stupid, nothing fazed the blonde. She occupied her time by probing and touching every occult item found in the witch's lair. Mother Gothel was greatly amused with the young woman's naivety, but Madame Leota began to grow suspicious. Robin had to be deceiving them, no one could feasibly behave so nonchalantly. 

"Legend has it this arrow was enchanted to always hit its mark." Mother Gothel chimed in, looking up at a bow and arrow that were hoisted from the ceiling.

"No way! Really?" Robin sighed wistfully as she surveyed the chambers, "This place is so cool. Though, I did think there'd be more cauldrons."

Madame Leota rolled her eyes, unable to cope with the golden-haired girl's inane comments. The spiritual being kept staring at Robin, wondering what was going through her head. She couldn't believe that Robin had ignored Zelena's warnings, choosing to remain under Mother Gothel's tutorage. The blonde apparently didn't have any sort of psychic intuition or aptitude for foresight

"Dear, cauldrons are for _amateurs_." Mother Gothel explained.

"Typical. My mother has dozens of them just laying around." Robin scoffed, as she wandered across the room, "Though, she mostly just uses them to pot plants now. So pathetic. You'll teach me to be ten times the witch she was, won't you?"

"Of course." Mother Gothel reassured the young woman, "Just step up to the Sacred Orchid, and we can begin."

Drawn across the floor, utilizing enchanted chalk, a star within a circle, a pink flower rested at the center, black candelabras on each corner. _The Sacred Orchid_. What a bogus lie. Madame Leota stifled her laughter. A five-point pentagram, an important aspect of any successful sacrificial ritual. Even the most ignorant individuals could recognize the symbol, but lo and behold, Robin was stepping inside, not a second of hesitation.

"Whoa." Robin admired the pentagram, "This looks intense." 

"It is." Mother Gothel somehow managed to not chuckle, "But don't fret."

A round artifact appeared in Mother Gothel's hand. The size of a small jewelry box, the item was metallic, a shade of brass, adorned with ruby gems.

"What's that?" Robin made an inquiry about the strange object that the older woman held.

"This is the Resurrection Amulet." Mother Gothel divulged, rising up her palm to show Robin the trinket, "With it, one can resurrect a soul that has not yet fully surrendered to the other side. Today, you and I are going to use it to bring my dear Leota back to the realm of the living."

"I get to do a resurrection spell?" Robin's face lit up.

"Mm-hmm." Mother Gothel hummed a reply.

"Awesome." Robin chirped cheerfully, "So, that do I have to do?"

From her place on the table behind the blonde, Madame Leota smirked, yearning to initiate the ceremony. The floating specter couldn't remember how long she had been waiting to return to the world of the living.

"Just stand right where you are." Mother Gothel instructed.

"And die!" Madame Leota always ruined the best surprises. 

Mother Gothel lifted her hands, a set of fingers curling as she casted an offensive hex, striking Robin with a red electric bolt. The Resurrection Amulet glimmered. The pentagram began to glow, crimson energy shined along the outline.

"Aaaah!" Robin grunted, "Why are you doing this to me?"

A crushing sensation simmered against Robin's chest, a burning ache that the blonde couldn't endure. Her legs wobbled, bending at the knees. She fell down, incapable of withstanding the seering pain.

"So, I was just a sacrifice." Robin groaned, looking up at Mother Gothel, "I thought you were gonna teach me." 

"Teach you?" Mother Gothel taunted, "You're a middling witch at best, cursed with more ambition than talent. Leota is one of the most powerful beings in all the realms. She's critical to my plan and a perfect choice for our coven. And you get to restore her. Isn't that beautiful?"

Robin struggled against the witch's magic, but she felt the forces overpowering her. The blonde's life was being drained, sucked into the Resurrection Amulet.

"Stop!" A voice hollered out, "My daughter's life is not for sale."

Zelena sauntered into the room, determined to rescue her daughter, even if the blonde didn't want to be saved. Killian Jones trailed behind the red-haired woman, an ardent hatred for Mother Gothel blazed within his cerulean eyes.

"I already warned you, witch." Killian snarled with disgust, unsheathing his sword, "You want to fight, I'll gladly give you one."

"You know, I enjoyed our last tussle, Captain." Mother Gothel quipped suggestively.

Nostrils flaring up with anger, grip tightening on the handle of his saber, Killian lunged at the vile woman. Zelena placed both hands over the dark-haired pirate's chest briefly, stopping him from striking the witch.

"Wait." Zelena interjected, turning to address Mother Gothel, "Take me instead. I'll pay the price. Just let her go."

An act of genuine love, how quaint and pitiful. Madame Leota was irritated, she despised being forced to witness such nauseating displays of sincere sentimentality.

"You're aware she wants nothing to do with you?" Mother Gothel quipped.

In that moment, the blonde remembered how cruelly she had rejected Zelena's maternal affections. Crouching down, face crumpled up with a distressed grimace, Robin glanced between her mother and the witch. It wasn't logical. Why would Zelena die in order to assist a daughter that didn't care about her?

"I don't care." Zelena declared, "I'm her mother."

Reaching out, Zelena grabbed the golden-haired girl by a shoulder, and yanking her out of the satanic pentagram. Robin stumbled into Killian's arms, the man holding onto the young blonde.

"So be it." Mother Gothel relented, resuming the ritual with Zelena as the new tribute.

A glint of disappointment flickered across two cobalt irises, Mother Gothel would have preferred to rid herself of Robin. Perhaps she squandered too much time, stalling the blonde by making false promises and beautiful lies. A contingency plan, Mother Gothel wanted to obtain a small amount of Robin's blood, willing given by the dumb girl, as the spell required. Frustration. The witch clenched her fingers and stroke Zelena with a pang of malevolent energy.

Succumbing to Mother Gothel's formidable power, Zelena winced and hissed. She bending over, crippled by pain, but refusing to tumble down. A mother who would do anything for her daughter, what a familiar sight. Such an unoriginal gesture of selfishness.

"No!" Robin cried out, "No, Mom. This is my fault! I should pay the price." 

Tears streaming across Robin's cheeks, she finally understood the consequences of her idiotic actions. Zelena was renouncing her own life, in exchange for Robin's well-being. The young woman's stomach churned as she saw her mother's body shuddering with violent convulsions.

Zelena spun around to look at Robin, sobbing as she felt Mother Gothel's malign magic course through her veins, overwhelming and unyielding. _Green_. Zelena's favorite color, the beautiful emerald shade of Robin's eyes. She gazed upon her daughter, absorbing every detail of the blonde's gorgeous face.

"Robin, run far away from here." Zelena ordered, "Go! Go live your life."

Flailing and tugging, the golden-haired girl squirmed against Killian's strong grasp, motivated by the desire to help her mother. Robin couldn't let their story end like this, it just wasn't fair. 

"Mother, please!" Robin choked on her words. 

"I love you." Zelena replied, staring into her daughter's eyes.

"I love you." Robin wept, "I love you so much. I am so sorry."

The raven-haired man's own heart thumped against his chest, Killian couldn't bear to look at Zelena and Robin, for fear of seeing himself and Alice reflected across the two doomed women. This witch had destroyed too many lives, Killian wouldn't stand idly by as she separated Zelena from her daughter.

"Release them, witch." Killian growled, relinquishing his hold on Robin, "I won't let you separate another parent from their child."

With a mischievous sneer, Mother Gothel focused her attention on Killian, always eager to mock the handsome man. She would never forgive him for choosing a life by Alice's side, instead of becoming the witch's faithful partner. A cunning sea captain and an alluring enchantress, they could have ruled the world.

"Keep turning up on my doorstep, Captain, and a girl might start to think you're sweet on her." Mother Gothel teased.

A sudden sting against the back of the witch's palm, the Resurrection Amulet slipped out of her hand. It was as fast and potent as lightning. Mother Gothel must have been too distracted by Killian, the woman failed to notice how Robin had commandeered the bow and arrow that hung from the ceiling of her lair.

Reverberating a loud clink, the Resurrection Amulet hit the ground. Killian reacted quickly, sliding down on the floor, across the wooden planks, and snatching the bejeweled pendant. He scrambled up on both feet, twisting his head and glancing at Robin proudly.

"I know what you're thinking. Is the arrow really enchanted or am I just that good?" Robin's arrogance was outstanding, "Though I may just be a middling witch, I seem to have a knack for this archery thing. Do you want to find out?"

Positioned in an intimidating battle stance, Robin pulled back the bowstring, aiming another arrow straight at Mother Gothel. Eyes narrowed down, pure rage flashed across the blonde's olive irises. The witch had to admit that a menacing conviction resonated through Robin's voice.

Mother Gothel could concede defeat. With a wave of her hand, both she and Madame Leota disappeared in a haze of black smoke. The resourceful sorceress would have to revive her phantasmal friend using an alternate method, but for now, there was a crucial incantation that she needed to invoke.

Transporting herself out of the chambers, Mother Gothel materialized in the middle of deserted glade, near a foreboding and misty lagoon. It was almost midnight, the perfect bewitching hour. Lunar beams glittered down upon the lake, silver ripples spread across the water surface. A chilly gust blew throughout the meadow, tree branches swaying in the wind, leaves fluttering down to the ground.  

Valiant Robin Mills and her bow, the green-eyed heroine should enjoy this reprieve, a hollow triumph against the forces of evil. A young woman blinded by hubris, the stars foretold her legend, Sagittarius, the Archer. She would never realize the truth until it was far too late.

Fog surrounded Mother Gothel, what a magical ambience, tailored for this special moment. The sorceress pulled out a dagger from her robe, a relatively normal blade. She silently sliced open her own palm, cutting against the flesh. Blood trickled out, red droplets that rained onto the terrain, drenching the soil. Wolves howled at a distance, a barbaric prayer to the full moon that the canines worshipped.

The witch procured the small vial that contained Robin's blood, sprinkling the crimson liquid over her own discarded sanguine fluids. Mother Gothel smiled, whispering phrases, synchronizing to the sounds that nocturnal creatures were emitting, the chirping of crickets, the ominous purring of wild cats, and flying owls hooting amidst an onyx sky.

"Et conteram iura verus amor." Mother Gothel muttered, "Teneat per sanguinem novo construere."

Chanting in Latin, a crucial component of any respectable séance. The smell of copper lingered in the air. Garnet stains smeared across the grass blades gleamed, a reddish-orange luminescence. True love. A celestial force, the purest type of magic, impervious to witchcraft. Obeying the fundamental laws of science and philosophy, the marvelous energy could never be eradicated, only converted into another form.

As Robin's blood seeped into the earth, fusing with Mother Gothel's own, an unspeakable crime was ensuing, the culmination of a transaction. All of nature served as an audience, the witch began to unravel the very foundation of fate itself. She grinned victoriously. Even though Robin seemed to have won the battle, she evidently had lost the war.


	57. Consequences

Chapter 57

Consequences

* * *

 

Some of us wage a war against two interior forces, the regret of the past and the fear for the future. The struggle persists throughout a person's life, with hope leading the charge, trying to defeat the doubts and concerns that lurk at the corners of a person's conscience. Remorse becomes a phantom that haunts an individual, unrelenting and ruthless.

Perhaps being intimate with one of her father's greatest enemies had been a misguided endeavor. Blinded by the idealistic concept of love, Alice could admit that her judgement was fallible and whimsical. Drizella Tremaine, the pretty sorceress who owned her heart. The blonde's actions might have made everything worse, created an unforgiving monster. 

Alice knew that leaving Drizella was a life-changing decision, the turn at a fork in the road. The blonde wished that she could turn back time, to stop herself from sauntering out of the suite where the woman of her dreams laid on top of a bed, under cotton sheets, naked and exposed. _I-I love you_. Alice replayed the crucial moment, again and again, a persistent memory that wouldn't stop tormenting her. Drizella surely thought that her feelings were not reciprocated.

It had been a year or two since Alice last saw the brunette. Maybe only a few months, it was difficult for the golden-haired girl to keep track of time. Between being imprisoned inside a tower for seventeen years and losing herself within the maddening realm of Wonderland, Alice's grasp on reality seemed to falter. She used to feel better, so much saner, when Drizella stood by her side.

A deteriorating mind, the small price to pay for shattering someone's spirit. Drizella had declared genuine love for Alice, trusting the blonde without inhibition, divulging secrets from a jaded past, relinquishing her well-preserved virginity, offering wealth and power. Drizella's grand gestures of romanticism, declared insufficient by Alice's instilled code of ethics. Were morals truly more important than Drizella? 

Alice thought that she was preventing a young woman from turning into a monster, but her choices only managed to crush a lonely girl's heart. _The end justifies the means_. Although Alice might have been full of good intentions, the worst crimes ever committed were done so in the name of justice.

The blonde spent most days traveling across the kingdom, searching aimlessly, not knowing what she was seeking out. A cure to Killian's cardiac affliction, or a remedy to her own broken heart? From a secluded village, to a foreign town. Bars and taverns, alcoholic beverages that didn't numb Alice's aching pain.

Gossip circulated across the marketplaces, stories that Alice overhead as she purchased supplies. Rumors were spreading throughout the land, tales about Drizella Tremaine's demise. How the vile witch had tried to attack Princess Tiana's rebels, but the heroes retaliated with magic of their own, converting Drizella into a stone statue.

According to the whispers, Lady Tremaine and Princess Tiana had formed a brief alliance, joining forces to defeat Drizella. A pang struck Alice's heart. A mother should never betray her own child. How could that woman be so _ruthless_? All of Drizella's pain orginated from Lady Tremaine's neglect and abuse. 

Hours faded away, due to Alice's indecisive disposition, days became months. The location would be easy to find, Alice had already been to Princess Tiana's campsite before. Seeing Drizella's lifeless statue, the notion made the blonde's stomach churn. She knew that the raven-haired girl's fate was her fault, the simple thought ate away at Alice's soul. Struggling with a sense of guilt, time carried on and on, as she waited for a sign.

Drizella could be saved with true love, unfrozen from the spell that had been casted over her, but then what? Was she going to forgive Alice's misdeeds? Would the brunette simply have a change of heart and forgo her plan to invoke a dreadful curse? How might Alice even dare to gaze into those two auburn irises and apologize? 

Those worries and pessimistic musings swirled around in Alice's head, a sorrowful concoction of despair. The sand inside an hour glass trickled down, symbolizing the passage of time. Awakening Drizella was a bad idea, abandoning her would be a horrendous punishment. Tick-tock. Alice heard the gears of her brain shifting.

Dragging both feet across the ground, shrouded in the figurative cloak of an especially dark night, Alice felt a pressure push against her chest. The blonde had prolonged the inevitable for so long, but when she reached the outskirts of Princess Tiana's campsite, a sigh slipped out of her lips. Drizella's statue, erected at the center of an open meadow, kept away from all the tents.

A waning moon could be seen from across the sky, behind the petrified body of the girl that Alice loved. The silver light sparkled along the marble material, bestowing an iridescent coating, a thin veil of bluish-grey glow. Such an enchanting and melancholic sight. The blonde circled around Drizella's paralyzed form. She let out a soft, heartbroken gasp. A grimace adorned the raven-haired girl's face, a snarling scowl, her arms were lifted up, adjusted in a combative stance.

One hand clutching tightly to the strap of her leather bag, Alice's pulse quickened. The blonde's knuckles turned white from the strength of her grip, throat constricted by regret and solace. She reached out with her other arm, fingers trailing down Drizella's concrete cheeks. It took every ounce of Alice's willpower not to burst into tears.

"Dru..." Alice whispered the recently invented nickname, her fragmented mind was unsure if she had ever even used the moniker before now. 

Only one fact was evident to Alice, the knowledge of how much Drizella clearly suffered, just before a hex transformed her into a block of cement, the brunette's heart had been wincing. Alice could appraise the facial expression on the young sorceress and decipher the truth, Drizella didn't genuinely want to be a monster.

Eyes roaming up and down the solidified brunette, Alice saw a few words scribbled across the statue's skirt. An ugly penmanship, belonging to the kind of petty idiot who would write the phrase, 'Burn in hell, witch!' on a defenseless woman. Alice knew that Drizella deserved some of this hatred, but she had never been one to fret over technicalities. Cowardly, cruel remarks were inappropriate under the direst of circumstances. Drizella was a person, with _real_ feelings.

Crouching down, knees against the grass, Alice pulled out a handkerchief from her leather bag. Frantic motions, she scrubbed off the chalk imprints, wiping away the nasty vandalism on the statue's surface. Alice jerked her wrist around until the joint felt sore and fatigued, as if cleaning Drizella's effigy would somehow alleviate the hurt that she had caused. Alice's desperate plea for redemption.

"I am so sorry, I'll fix this." Alice made hollow promises to an inanimate object.

Liberating Drizella from this prison would incur awful consequences, Alice was aware of the brunette's ability to hold a grudge. The probabilities that she could acquire Drizella's understanding and comprehension were slim to none. A risky gamble, the fate of an entire realm laid at stake, and Alice had all the odds against her.

Recollections and sensations swept over Alice. Sharing a sandwich by a warm campfire. Curling together on a mattress after barely surviving a wolf attack. Holding hands and jumping through a portal to Wonderland. Waltzing around in a luxurious hotel suite. Snuggling against each other, beneath the bedsheets. The feeling of Drizella's naked skin under the pads of Alice's wandering fingertips. How tender the brunette's moans sounded, the smoothness of her plump lips, the indescribable taste of Drizella's saliva. Brown eyes filled to the brim with love, ebony tresses framing the most beautiful face that Alice had ever seen. Two dimples forming, the corners of a mouth tipping upward, every single one of Drizella's smiles. The melodic noise of the dark-haired girl's laughter, echoing across Alice's splintered mind. No logical argument could rebuttal the powerful proclamations that the blonde's heart was declaring.

True love's kiss, capable of breaking any curse. Compelled by an invisible force, Alice rose herself up from the ground, performing an uncharacteristically elegant movement. Two feet anchored into the floor, the blonde's eyelids fluttered close for a second, opening to reveal a pair of reinvigorated cerulean irises, gleaming with unwavering resolve. Drizella needed Alice to be strong, their future depended on the golden-haired girl's unyielding determination.

Hands floating onto the statue's waist, laid upon the granite hips, Alice straightened out her spine, as if Drizella would judge the blonde's inadequate posture. With a rectified backbone, Alice noted that she was taller than Drizella. Competitive by nature, the raven-haired girl might scoff at the height difference, professing that the two inches were inconsequential. Alice smiled to herself. Snippy comments, an integral part of the young witch's charm. 

At a slow pace, Alice bowed down, pressing her lips upon Drizella's mouth, tender skin grazing against cold stone. In accordance to the laws that governed over magic, a prismatic wave of energy should have rippled out, returning Drizella to a normal state of flesh and bone. Alice tried again, kissing the brunette's statue several times. Sparks, glitter, dazzling displays of illumination. Something must happen, anything other than the absolute stillness and quietude that lingered through the atmosphere. 

Why didn't Alice's gesture dispel Drizella's ailment? A quite simple answer could be deducted, the deafening statement that reverberated through the blonde's subconscious. If true love's kiss was proven ineffective, then the sentiment must be nothing more than a fleeting infatuation. Drizella and Alice were not soulmates, their destinies had never been intertwined.

"B-But I love you, Drizella. I love you." Alice reprimanded the statue, a grim one-sided conversation, "I love you too."

Three words that Drizella would never hear. It was too late. Alice should have told the brunette how she felt, now the sentiment had been deemed useless by whatever mystical beings monitored over the bonds of true love. 

 "I _loved_ you too." Alice's retinas burned as she revised her statement, eyes swelling up with unshed tears.

Alice's heart pounded roughly against her chest, forehead beading with sweat. The blonde felt nauseous, bile revolting against the back of her esophagus. It seemed unfathomable, the realization that she and Drizella weren't meant to be together. None of this made any sense at all, less logical than Wonderland, a puzzle that lacked a reasonable solution. Alice placed a palm onto her left breast, attempting to pacify the fragile organ that thumped erratically underneath the flushed skin.

The first rays of dawn painted stripes yellow shimmer upon Drizella's statue, warning Alice of the impending sunrise, that the morning was approaching. Standing in front of the monument, the blonde didn't feel anything at all, a numbing sensation had washed over her. The wind blew against Alice's face, cool and despondent.

Tears pricked at Alice's eyes, droplets streaming down her cheeks. Retinas stung, pupils dilated, vision clouded with moisture. Alice cried silently, in a noiseless fashion that made the experience even more heartbreaking. Discovering that she wasn't Drizella's soulmate, the sudden epiphany couldn't persuade her heart to stop loving the brunette. Alice's affections for Drizella had not lessened, they might be impotent, but that didn't render them nonexistent.

How was Alice expected to continue on after her torso had been ripped open, a gaping hole replacing the area where a heart used to be? What could the blonde even do now? Why must fate play such daunting tricks? Alice adored Drizella, nothing would ever invalidate that declaration, but she needed to accept the fundamental facts, their feelings were not pure, neither of them had actually been in love.

Walking away should be the most logical move. Alice Jones was just large figurine, trapped in a prolonged game of chess. Thirty seconds left to make a decision. The blonde opted for a strategic retreat. Rook. Queen. Two essential pieces that were not aligned, incompatible, obelisk and alabaster. Black. White. At opposite corners of a spectrum. Villain. Hero. Drizella Tremaine would never be hers. Alice had lost the match against the guiding forces of destiny. Checkmate. 

The book had reached its final chapter, culminating into a wretched tale that Alice didn't want to read aloud. The narrative required extensive editing, a few different plot twists, and a more optimistic moral message. The audience couldn't be pleased with such an unsatisfactory resolution. Consequences be damned, Alice would renounce everything that she was, agree to whatever supernatural pact, initiate all types of forbidden rituals, anything, as long as it granted her the ability to rewrite the ending of this tragic story.


	58. Little Favors

Chapter 58

Little Favors

* * *

 

There are many remedies for physical pain. Lotions that can be applied onto a festering wound. A consumable substance that a person could ingest. Creams, ointments, potions, serums, endless kinds of medication, both concocted through magical means or formulated by using scientific knowledge. Paranormal or conventional, a tangible ache has a feasible cure.

A shattered soul, on the other hand, is not a problem that has an easy solution. An individual cannot simply heal someone's feelings, or lessen the torment of a crushed spirit. There are no bandages or gauze to wrap around emotional scars. A person doesn't have the luxury of administering an elixir and alleviating the pain. No one truly knows how to mend a broken heart.

As a final resort, Alice traveled across the land, trekking through the most isolated sections of a dark forest, searching for a very cunning man. The only being with enough power to solve the intricacies of true love, Rumpelstiltskin was Alice's last hope. The desperate girl knew that she could find him at the edge of a particular river, a tranquil place where he experienced a solemn sort of peace.

Trickling droplets made a tender sound, the stream had a gentle current, washing away all of the pebbles and stones that culminated by the muddy banks. A process that seemed to have a symbolic meaning. A brown-haired man stood alongside the border of the brook, staring down at the running water. A strong breeze blew across the meadow, slightly ruffling the smooth fabric of his clothes.

Making tentative steps across the nearly deserted glade, Alice had no desire to disturb the pensive man's brooding, but she needed magical assistance, or at least some of his sagely advice. Trudging her feet along the ground, she tried not to make any noise. The skirt of the blonde's dress brushed against the grass, a faint clatter that anyone could hear.

Rumpelstiltskin, he slowly to turned around, greeting Alice with an amused smile. Recognition flickered across his dark irises. The brown-haired man had been clearly dwelling on sentimental thoughts, mourning the loss of someone who was dear to him. Alice never asked for details, she just knew that Rumpelstiltskin’s sadness stemmed from the departure of a great love.

"Hello, dear." Rumpelstiltskin bowed his head curtly, "Is something the matter?"

Perception, the older man's most efficient skill. By accessing Alice's somber expression and her defeated posture, he could deduce that something had happened. The blonde usually displayed an overly cheerful attitude, laughing boisterously and skipping along the fields, her subdued demeanor was a clear indicator that she must be troubled.

"I-" Alice ran a hand through her messy hair, "I-I need help. I have some questions."

"Oh?" Rumpelstiltskin folded his arms, "Is that so?"

Wringing both hands nervously, Alice began shuffling her feet. Head lowered down, the blonde wanted to avoid looking at Rumpelstiltskin, afraid that the intuitive man would see her thoughts before she even had a chance to sort them out.

"Does true love's kiss really break a-any curse?" Alice asked, a slight tremble in gee voice.

"Almost any curse." Rumpelstiltskin nodded.

 _Almost_. The usage of that peculiar word, exceptions existed. What spell did Princess Tiana and her merry band of heroes cast on Drizella? Trying to remember all the rumors, Alice became engrossed in her ruminations, eyebrows scrunching up. _Blood magic_. Lady Tremaine's contribution to the downfall of her own daughter. A frown manifested itself across Alice's face.

"Even _blood magic_?" Alice inquired.

"Blood magic? Yes, without fail." Rumpelstiltskin tilted his head to the side, wondering if Alice was still attempting to find a cure for her father's affliction, "But Kilian's curse is tricky-"

"This isn't about Papa's poisoned heart!" Alice snapped, instantly regretting how she had reacted. 

Dropping his arms, Rumpelstiltskin took a step forward. His face softened, two brown eyes brimming with genuine concern. Alice was behaving erratically, devoid of her usual optimism. Regardless of how difficult the blonde's life had been, she always analyzed situations through a positive perspective. Every single one of Alice's storm clouds retained a silver lining.

"I just- I'm sorry..." Alice apologized, "Is there a way for me to become someone's true love?"

The older man's eyebrows wiggled, confused and bewildered, he gazed into a pair of distressed cerulean eyes. None of this made much sense to Rumpelstiltskin, he had never seen Alice in such a state of perplexing despair. 

The magic between soulmates. Alice had been led to believe that someone was her true love, but the relationship must have ended on a bad note.The blonde's fragile heart still clinged to the delusion that she should be with this person, the travesties of being young and foolish. 

"You are someone's true love, dear." Rumpelstiltskin laid a comforting hand on the young woman's shoulder, "And I am sure that you'll find _her_ one day."

"H-Her?" Alice stammered, "How did you know that I fancy girls?"

"I'm very, very, very old." Rumpelstiltskin smirked, "And with age, you'll come to realize that people are often easy to read."

A heartbroken grimace appeared on the blonde's face. She shrugged her shoulders, pulling away from Rumpelstiltskin’s hand. It was such an upsetting predicament. _I-I love you._ Drizella's words rattled inside of Alice's head, three syllables that echoed across her mind. 

"Well, I can barely figure out my own thoughts, let alone other people's." Alice scoffed, "I thought that I had found true love, but- I guess, I was wrong."

"Don't fret, my dear." Rumpelstiltskin persisted, assuming that Alice's worries were highly unnecessary, "Even _I_ found true love, I am certain that you will too. Someone as pure and selfless as you is bound to have a wonderful soulmate. A dashing, heroic princess, perhaps?"

Alice shook her head, agitated and inconsolable. Every statement that the man uttered was having a hurtful effect on the blonde. Rumpelstiltskin thought that she had been vexed by some frivolous infatuation. He could never understand the inexplicable ache that Alice felt, the longing of losing someone who didn't belong to her.

"W-What if I want to _choose_ my own soulmate?" Alice stared at the older man, as if his dark irises held all the answers.

Fingers clenched around the strap of her leather bag, Alice felt tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. The golden-haired girl didn't need to find an actual soulmate, she wanted her true love to be Drizella Tremaine.

"Alice, fate isn't going to give you an incompatible soulmate." Rumpelstiltskin explained gently, "Please, calm down. Trust me, you are destined for much greater things. Whomever broke your heart is _not_ worthy of you."

Not good enough. Drizella's mother had spent a lifetime instilling the brunette with the notion that she wasn't worthy of love. For years, the woman berated and humiliated her daughter. Drizella feigned confidence, lashed out angrily at those around her, disllusioned by Lady Tremaine's verbal abuse and emotional manipulation.

A lump formed against her throat, Alice couldn't breath, suffocating beneath the clutches of sorrow and resignation. She hated the fact that Lady Tremaine's cruel presumptions might be proven correct. Overwhelmed by the awful thought, Alice burst into tears, unable to contain her melancholy.

"H-Help me forget her, Rumple." Alice begged, face crumpling as she wrapped both arms around her own body, "Please, help me forget."

Approaching the unstable girl cautiously, Rumpelstiltskin brought both of his hands to rest on Alice's shoulders, urging the blonde to look at him. His eyes bore a hole into Alice's soul, finally comprehending her pain. She was suffering, unable to let go of the haunting memories that her heart profoundly cherished.

Sliding a palm onto Alice's forehead, the brown-haired man's other arm latched over her back of her neck, to steady the golden-haired girl's shivering body. Rumpelstiltskin would grant her this reprieve, obliterating whichever recollections tormented Alice the most. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Focus on what you want to forget." Rumpelstiltskin ordered, "And I'll erase those memories."

Heart thumping on her breastbone, the precocious organ rebelled against Alice's wishes. Palpitations fell in synchronization with the blonde's wandering thoughts. The spirit refused to abandon Drizella, even if the mind was willing to succumb to the sweet release that ignorance offered.

"Y-Yes." Alice nodded in agreement.

Alice focused on everything that reminded her of Drizella. She shut her eyes tightly, allowing thoughts to linger on the image of a pretty sorceress. Orange marmalade sandwiches, a bittersweet flavor, a deliciously acidic, harsh but tender. An oxymoron, describing both the citrine taste and the brunette's personality. Long, ebony tendrils of hair. Landscapes of pale, nude skin glittering under a bath of moonlight. Red, able to represent either love or hate, perhaps some twisted combination of the two, the stunning color that Alice saw when she gazed upon Drizella. Dark, brown irises, reflecting flecks of amber when the sun shimmered at the fractals. 

Rumpelstiltskin cleansed the blonde's mind, cradling her head until each perturbing thought had been wiped away. His hand pressed over Alice's wrinkling eyebrows, sensing how her skin became clammy and hot. The man knew that this would be for the best. Alice was too good of a person, she lacked the ability to understand that some people weren't meant for true love. 

Minutes passed, Alice's whimpering escalated, turning into ear-splitting cries. The blonde slumped against Rumpelstiltskin’s chest, sobbing incessantly. Arms wrapping around Alice, the man's own heart ached for the poor girl, swelling with compassion. He held her firmly, substituting the doting father who wasn't permitted to be there.

Being rejected by a first love, a milestone in every young person's life. Alice's fingers gripped the fabric of Rumpelstiltskin’s tunic, grasping on to the paternal affection that he eagerly provided. She wept and wept, tear ducts straining to keep up with her grief. Drizella Tremaine faded from the surface of her conscious, but Alice continued to cry, inexplicably mourning the end of a relationship that she could no longer remember.

* * *

Spreading cream cheese across two slices of white bread, topped with a thick layer of orange marmalade, both wedges were placed together. Using a shallow bowl, a concoction of whisked eggs and milk. A lightly greased griddle was heated over a medium flame. Dipping the sandwich into the yolk and dairy mixture, ready to be fried. Toasting each slab until the exterior became golden-brown. Served on a thin, paper plate.

The process of making an orange marmalade sandwich, a series of steps that Tilly never grew tired of observing. At the blonde's favorite supermarket, the cook, Mr. Charles, he generally prepared the meal in front of the customer. The man smiled at Tilly, sliding the dish across the counter.

"Here you go, girlie." Mr. Charles addressed the young woman.

"Thank you, Mr. Charles." Tilly dug into her pockets, searching for spare money.

"This should cover it." A male voice chimed in, a hand slamming a ten-dollar bill on the surface of the counter, "Throw in a donut, and keep the change."

Detective Weaver appeared from behind Tilly, startling the blonde. If the police officer was going to pay for the girl's lunch, then he surely wanted to solicit her services. An unwarranted gesture, after shooting the man in the stomach, Tilly felt guilty enough to comply with whatever he requested.

Mr. Charles bowed his head obediently, abiding to the other man's instructions and adding a glazed donut on top of Tilly's platter. He retrieved the money from off the counter and sauntered away. Everyone knew better than to meddle with Detective Weaver's enigmatic affairs.

A wide grin erupted across Tilly's face, pleased to see that the older man was back to his usual, scheming self. Detective Weaver's quick recovery eased some of her deeply embedded shame.

"So." Tilly hummed excitedly, "How may I be of assistance?"

With one hand, Tilly grabbed her sandwich, taking a large bite. Teeth sinking into the crunchy bread, she nibbled on a corner, relishing the acerbic tinge of the orange marmalade.

"Well, you see, it's about-" Detective Weaver paused, hesitating for a second, "We have to help Detective Rogers." 

A glint of remorse sparkled in the older man's eyes, an air of familiarity enveloped the ambience. Tilly had noticed the change, how Detective Weaver treated her sympathetically, with a kindness that she failed to comprehend. It was almost as if he felt _gratitude_ , and that didn't make any type of sense.

If it weren't for Detective Weaver's testimony, the blonde would be instituted, locked away at some secluded insane asylum. Homeless and vagrant, mentally unstable, homoerotic tendencies, the authorities had a plethora of justifications that should appeal to a conservative judge. An albatross weighing down on Tilly's shoulders, she was indebted to the brown-haired man. 

Freedom was the most valuable asset that Tilly owned, appraised at an immeasurable price. The golden-haired vagabond could never truly repay Detective Weaver, but for as long as he wanted, she would prove her loyalty, an unyielding soldier, bequeathing little favors without question or reluctance.


	59. Benevolent Purposes

Chapter 59

Benevolent Purposes

* * *

 

Time. The continual progress of existence, a concept used to measure the sequence of events, the irreversible succession from the past through the present, and finalizing at the future. The abstract component is a combination of various measurements that are used to quantify the rates of change in the conscious experience. 

Dripping sand inside an hour glass. Spiraling rotations around a clock. Angular shadows over a sun dial. Time is stated to be infinite, and yet somehow, people often feel like an everlasting amount might not be enough. Seconds. Weeks. Years. It never suffices, the end eventually arrives.

It took exactly four minutes for Tilly nod at Detective Weaver, agreeing with the police officer's plan to deceive his own partner. According to the brown-eyed man, trying to locate Eloise Gardener was dangerous. Lies could be used for benevolent purposes. _The end justifies the means._ A pragmatic notion that induced a strange ache onto the blonde's chest. Tilly didn't want to trick a friend, not when she had so very few of them.

Under the Aurora Bridge, perched near the troll monument, Tilly tried to keep herself busy by selling a case of stolen wristwatches that she obtained through illegal means. It was a decent source of income, and the blonde had been running low on funds lately. Purchasing multicolored candlesticks and delectable cupcakes, a wasteful investment that generated no profits or revenue, but Ivy's genuine smiles were worth every single penny. Tilly would pay any price at all, just to see those two adorable, tiny dimples appear along the back of raven-haired girl's jawline.

Ivy Belfrey's happiness. It meant that Tilly was willing to stand by the statue of an enormous monolith, beneath a scorching hot sun, as she attempted to hustle and barter for petty sums of money. A small crowd of potential customers had encircled the blonde. She held up a wristwatch, engrossed in delivering a wondrous presentation, exhibiting the merchandise over the palm of her hand.

"Time's always slipping away, isn't it?" Tilly tightened her grip on the wristwatch, "That's why you need a good timepiece to grab ahold before it's too late."

Through her peripheral vison, Tilly spotted a black car, parking near the curb of the street. Two figures exited the vehicle. Detective Weaver's younger partner, his blue eyes lingered on her. Time was up. Tilly knew that she wouldn't be able to delay the inevitable.

"Speaking of too late, shop's closed for the day." Tilly announced, her entrepreneurial enthusiasm dissipating.

The clients were scurrying off; Tilly began packing up her illicit goods. She threw the wristwatch into the rectangular container and closed the lid. In spite of her best efforts, Tilly wasn't quick enough. The two men were blocking the blonde's path. Knuckles clenching around the handle of her suitcase, she felt trapped, both figuratively and physically. 

Detective Rogers approached her, accompanied by a familiar man. Henry Mills. The blonde frowned. Despite all of Ivy's eloquent reassurances, Tilly couldn't help but view Henry as a romantic rival. An overwhelming sense of insecurity coiled around the golden-haired girl's stomach.

"Hello, Detective." Tilly chirped, but if Detective Rogers knew the blonde better, he would notice how her cheerful attitude lacked its usual sincerity.

Henry Mills. No manners at all. He didn't even bother to introduce himself. Beige pants, a navy-blue jacket, the man was awfully generic, not nearly adequate enough for someone as breathtakingly gorgeous as Ivy Belfrey. Nervous, and blatantly out of his comfort zone, the mediocre author just stood stoically next to Detective Rogers.

"I need your help." Detective Rogers stated, "The advice you gave me yesterday actually pointed me in the right direction for once. So, if you can take a look in here and tell me if anything jumps out at you?"

The raven-haired man presented Tilly with a makeshift journal, a book full of sketches and diary entries, gazing at blue-eyed girl expectantly. Two sets of cerulean irises, the mere thought of disappointing Detective Rogers broke Tilly's heart. 

Flipping through the pages, she noticed a jagged border, residual dried paint along the paper. A sheet had been ripped out from the spine. Tilly could concoct a plan with this knowledge. Forgery, an essential skill that every ingenious street urchin should attain.

"I've never seen any of this before, but I do know her story. Bad home life. Parents who didn't care." Tilly grimaced, returning the old journal to Detective Rogers, "I don't think this girl was taken."

"You think she's a runaway?" Detective Rogers reiterated the blonde's vague observations, "I went down that road, talked to the kids in the street. No one knows her."

An amused expression developed on Tilly's face, she stuffed both hands inside the pockets of her olive jacket. _As if_. A bunch of orphans and delinquents were never going to converse with a police officer and his pet civilian. Tilly glanced at the two pretentious men, her mouth distorting into a patronizing smirk.

"Trust me, people like that don't talk to people like _you_." Tilly was acting uncharacteristically hostile, perturbed by Henry's unwelcomed presence.

"So, you'll help us then?" Detective Rogers looked so eager.

"Didn't say that." Tilly quipped. 

"Oh, she'll help us." Henry interjected casually, "Because the detective would much rather have you help out than, well, write you up for selling stolen watches."

"I do hate paperwork." Detective Weaver added.

"All right then. Help is on the way." Tilly relented, performing a subtle curtsy with the flaps of her jacket, "Meet me in the park in two hours. And bring a sandwich." 

"Marmalade?" Detective Rogers remembered.

"Sounds delicious." Tilly conceded a genuine grin, her heart touched by his perception.

Pivoting around and bowing down, Tilly retrieve her suitcase from where it rested on the ground. She turned to face Detective Rogers again, staring at him with intent.

"I do hope I can find her for you, Detective." Tilly declared, "Seems you need this as much as Eloise does."

Marching off, Tilly pushed past the good-hearted police officer and the intrusive Henry Mills. Her mind was rattled by provocative thoughts, dripping in wayward doubts. The blonde didn't want to go through with Detective Weaver's scheme, but she had no choice. Her loyalty tipped and shifted between both men.

To make matters worse, Tilly hated to see Henry Mills amicably spending time alongside Detective Rogers. It stirred up repetitive sentiments of jealousy, swirling around inside the pits of her stomach. Henry was an uninvited nuisance, making friends with the most important people in Tilly's life. 

 _Ivy Belfrey_. All the roads within Tilly's conscious led back to the raven-haired girl. No matter how hard the blonde tried to constrain her emotions, the love that she felt for Ivy would always seep through, affecting Tilly's behavior. Misplaced anger and feelings of inadequacy, demons that left a haunting impression.

Two hours. The self-designated time frame that Tilly had allotted herself with. She needed to conjure some irrefutable proof that would dissuade anyone from searching for Eloise ever again. Deep inside Tilly's heart, pulsating along her very bones, she knew that this was the best course of action. Eloise Gardener, a strange conundrum, the missing girl who might only bring misery to Hyperion Heights, Tilly couldn't dispel the foreboding feeling that crept across her chest.

* * *

Vengeance has a monstrous appetite, forever bloodthirsty and insatiable, a never-ending fire that consumes everything with its passage. A widely accepted notion, revenge doesn't alleviate an individual's pain, it tends to worsen the damage. Retribution for crimes committed in the past is simply the false promise of a more pleasant future.

Events had been set into motion, having set the cunning trap. Victoria Belfrey would be accused of kidnapping a defenseless woman, Eloise Gardener. _Checkmate_. All the pieces were perfectly aligned, Ivy yearned to achieve some form of vindication, and soon enough, she was expected to obtain her greatest desire. 

Detective Rogers seemed determine to seek out Eloise Gardener. Most residents in Hyperion Heights did not trust Victoria's business investments or ulterior intentions. With Victoria's nefarious reputation, framing the greedy corporate fiend of imprisoning an innocent woman couldn't be an easier task. Ivy just had to wait, monitor Henry and Jacinda's budding relationship, ensure that true love wouldn't jeopardize the goals.

Early in the morning, the smell of single malt whiskey wafted through the bar. A soft melody rang out across the establishment, overpowering the clamorous mutterings of the few patrons who had decided to eat a breakfast meal at a dinghy pub. A forgettable little tune, providing the facility with a tranquil ambience.

Strutting along the polished wooden floor, Ivy didn't know why she felt the urge to enter Roni's. Impromptu visits to Regina's shabby restaurant were not part of her endgame strategy. Perhaps she enjoyed taunting the raven-haired woman who had disappointed her all those years ago. A treasured mentor, an old friend. There was some sentimental pull toward Regina, a deep longing that Ivy could not understand.

Walking across the dining area, Ivy spotted Jacinda and Henry, a worrisome sight. Talking, flirting, sharing drinks, fate was reuniting the predestined couple together. Ivy scoffed, turning her attention toward the oblivious woman behind the bar counter. Had she ignored Ivy's warning? Did Regina really think that her mere willpower could be a match against the terrifying magic of Mother Gothel's coven?

An instantaneous scowl manifested on Regina's face, her eyes darkening when she noticed the younger brunette approaching. Black irises glowered with hatred. Shoving a five-dollar bill in the tip jar, the raven-haired woman glared at Ivy in an unnerving fashion. Magic or not, Regina would always be intimidating, entirely too regal and elegant, suited for more than a rustic pub.

"They seem happy." Ivy turned her head from Regina, to Jacinda and Henry.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Regina sneered. 

"Just checking to make sure you're doing your job." Ivy smirked, "Cause those two are getting closer every day. And we can't have that."

Regina remained silent, her facial features hardened, jaw clenching, teeth gritting. She was as defiant and brazen as ever, displaying a scornful gleam in her pupils that perturbed Ivy.

"If the curse breaks, the people you love get hurt." Ivy warned, her voice laced with a sense of smugness that successfully aggravated Regina, "So, I'd say you've got your work cut out for you."

With a playful gait in her step, Ivy spun away from the bar counter. She gripped the strap of her handbag, sauntering out of the facility. Behaving like a defiant child who had finally scored a victory against a great rival. _Or a mother_. Nonsense. Ivy wouldn't allow a subconscious voice to whisper idyllic musings about what Regina meant to her. She didn't want another unfulfilling maternal figure. It was far too late for those sniveling sentiments.

The young sorceress didn't crave for anyone's approval, maybe she might have been vulnerable once, but that little girl was gone, buried in the farthest reaches of her soul. _Drizella Tremaine_ , reborn as a member of an enchanting sisterhood, ruthless witches who only possessed inconceivable strength, and yet, a shiver of doubt slithered down her spine. Flashes of cerulean irises and golden hair invaded the brunette's thoughts, an ominous reminder that Ivy Belfrey had developed a brittle weakness. 

* * *

A hobby, a regular activity that is done for enjoyment, typically during a person's leisure time. These avocations can include collecting objects, engaging in artistic pursuits, playing sports, or pursuing other amusements. By continually participating in a particular enterprise, one can acquire substantial skill and knowledge. Some people consider hobbies to be therapeutic, that such endeavors have a calming effect on an individual's psyche.

Sketching had always been able to soothe Tilly's inner turmoil, the noises and sounds echoing around her head would quiet down. Twirling the pencil across the parchment, rubbing the granite tip onto the sheet, the process of drawing an image was cathartic.

Laying on her stomach, perched over a park bench, Tilly became engrossed in her latest project. A misleading puzzle piece. She had to procure a picture that would fit along the torn border found inside Eloise Gardener's journal. No illustration was complete without a fabricated tale, preferably an epic love story.

"Hm." Tilly mused aloud, "A runaway always gives herself a new name."

Eloise Gardener, a mysterious and beautiful girl, or rather, that was how Tilly chose to imagine the young woman. Now for the narrative, Tilly had to be theatrical, but keep the details simplistic. A credible anecdote. Bad parents, or maybe a foster child, lost in the bureaucratic system, displeased with life in general. Harboring poetic tendencies, she would carry around a copy of The Catcher in the Rye, by J.D. Salinger. Eloise met a handsome boy, and opted to change her name, something unique. Drea? Dr... Drizzle? Or perhaps Rain. 

Fingers curled around a pencil, Tilly started to depict her Eloise, a fictional representation of a perplexing girl. Long, raven tendrils of wavy hair. Auburn irises, sprinkled with honey-colored flakes, shining bright when the light glosses over them. Full, cushioned and plump lips. A faint blemish at the left corner of her jaw. Lines and shading, contours converging to form a familiar face. 

"Oh boy." Tilly sighed, ripping the sheet from off her sketchbook, "I'm pitifully smitten."

Giggling to herself, Tilly crumpled up the piece of paper and squeezed the portrait into a tightly compressed ball. She tossed the round scrap of parchment against the ground, hearing how it dropped next to a growing pile of similarly discarded spherical trash. Tilly needed to concentrate on drawing something other than Ivy Belfrey.

 _I love you, Ivy._ The words flew out of Tilly's mouth before she could stop them. Twice. Maybe the air turned heavy, thick with emotion. The phrase that Ivy had not been able to say back. A sentiment that she might never feel for Tilly. The invisible wall of unrequited love, a barrier that should have pushed Tilly away from Ivy. A defining moment, paralyzingly insurmountable. The truth was pathetic, but Tilly would always be selfless in regards to Ivy. She didn't need the brunette to return her love. How altruistic.

Flinging over to a new sheet, Tilly began her seventh attempt at recreating one of Eloise Gardener's doodles. The blonde's mind was split right down the middle, where a half of her brain stayed fixated on Ivy, and the other half struggled to abide with Detective Weaver's wishes.

Yellow. Green. Blue. Purple. Red. Orange. Brushes of cheap acrylics, bought at a local convenience store, the best sketches deserved color. A prismatic sunset or sunrise, the vague and final scene of a film that might appease the general audience. Tilly hoped that the painting would provide closure to life of Eloise Gardener, even if it failed to assuage the blonde's fickle conscience.


	60. Pairs

Chapter 60

Pairs

* * *

 

Flocks of birds flew through the prickly tops of trees, feathered wings spanned out, gliding along the wind and singing a festive melody. Squirrels jumped across the branches, leaving an aftershock of loose leaves falling behind them as the stems trembled, unprepared for the hops made by the energetic small rascals. Fluffy bunnies snuggled closely together, hidden inside subterranean burrows. All sorts of critters and vermin, no animal dared to travel without a partner. Sets of at least two, wandering in pairs, keeping each other safe from predators and fiends.

There was a clearing, a shrouded glade where several people had built a camp, encircled around a blazing fire. A beautiful woman with dark curls, sitting next to a raven-haired pirate, Killian Jones. Another female, orange tresses tied up over her head. An overly enthusiastic father, Henry Mills, holding his infant daughter, Lucy. Laughter could be heard from across the meadow.

Through the filter of a transparent lens, Alice observed her father from afar. He was happy, content with his newfound companions. The blonde would always prioritize Killian's well-being over her own loneliness, even on this special occasion. The ending of February, Alice's birthday, the passing of one more year.

Lowering down the spyglass, Alice let out a breath of relief. She smiled to herself, a sincere and noble gesture. The golden-haired girl had received a marvelous gift, the knowledge that Killian could still feel joy, surrounded by faithful and compassionate friends.

"You look happy, Papa." Alice muttered tenderly.

Before Alice could glimpse at her father again, a twig snapped, causing a resonating clink. Startled by the sudden noise, Alice spun around quickly, the blonde was staring along a sharp arrowhead, a metal triangle, pointed straight at her nose.

"Don't move, spy." The assailant groused.

A beautiful huntress, an intricate braid of golden hair dangled down her back. A glint of arrogance flickered across two emerald irises. A dashing cloak, leather gloves, and a fine tunic, the handsome stranger was dressed in an outfit suited for the intrepid heroine of a fairytale. The tall, athletic young woman towered before Alice, bowstring pulled back, aiming an arrow directly ahead.

Frightened, intimidated, and frankly, a little bit aroused, Alice disobeyed the green-eyed archer's commands, and scampered away. She scurried across the wilderness, journeying deeper into the dark forest, feet running fast, performing a series of haste movements in order to navigate through the treacherous lands.

Alice could hear the pounding of leather boots approaching, her pulse quickened. She pushed both hands onto a large log, successful jumping over the horizontal trunk. The archer followed closely behind. The Archer. _Sagittarius_. Accelerating as much as physically feasible, Alice knew that the other girl was still chasing her. 

One misstep, Alice didn't see the trap until it was far too late. She tripped against the thin wire, collapsing onto the dirt floor with a loud thump. Triggering a mechanism, an enormous cage tumbled down, effectively capturing Alice.

"What-" Alice groaned, disoriented from her collision with the hard ground.

A compartment composed of bamboo canes and thick rope, Alice stood up, afraid and flustered. She hated to be stuck inside an enclosed space. Alice gripped at the improvisational bars, aspiring to break apart the plant stalks.

Her cerulean eyes widened. The female archer appeared, holding the bow with a graceful expertise, unfazed by having jogged across the woods. Alice had to admit, the other young woman's stamina and agility were outstanding.

"Who are you?" The taller blonde barked, arm reaching back to her quiver, intending to retrieve an arrow, "Who sent you?"

"Nobody sent me." Alice replied, "I just- I wanted to see my Papa." 

"Then why are you lurking?" The young woman retorted.

"Because his heart is poisoned." Alice explained solemnly, "If I got any closer he'd die." 

Arm dropping down, the green-eyed girl relaxed, her facial features softening. The hostile tension between the two young women dissipated as a gleam of recognition sparkled across two virescent irises. Without a snarling scowl on her mouth, the huntress _almost_ looked charming.

"You're Alice." The archer toned down her voice, "Nook's kid."

"Nook?" Alice's eyes shifted in confusion.

"N-New Hook. It's a thing that my mom-" The young woman had lowered her bow, assuming a friendly disposition, "And ya know what? Doesn't matter. Wow. So, you're The Girl in the Tower."

"I got out of that tower years ago." Alice mumbled, a bit embarrassed.

Alice didn't enjoy thinking about the tower. Her imprisonment had been a horrible experience, exceeded in severity by a single incident, a grievance that she could no longer remember, but often reminisced about. A pretty sorceress, no, a beautiful archer. Alice's mind suffered from spontaneous glitches, she needed to focus.

"So I heard." The archer mused, "I thought Henry and Ella left you in Wonderland looking for a cure for your father."

The other girl gazed upon Alice with a slight hint of admiration, impressed by the smaller blonde's exploits. Alice wasn't accustomed to being treated so kindly, she felt uncomfortable, caught beneath the scrutiny of two eyes that glimmered like peridotite gems.

"Well, they did. But I failed." Alice lamented, shrugging her shoulders.

Wonderland. Pending affairs. The suppressed memory of having left Henry and Ella. Why had Alice chosen to stay in that godforsaken realm? She couldn't recall the ordeal, only faint traces of blurry images and faded emotions haunted her thoughts. 

"I'm sorry." The golden-haired girl offered her sympathies, "I know he misses you." 

"How do you know my papa?" Alice inquired, slanting her head with bemusement.

"I'm a part of the team." The archer responded with a perky tone, full of mirth, "You know, my mom and aunt, your dad, a bunch of other people I don't really know. Kind of new here. Name's Robin." 

"New Robin." Alice pondered the name, "So Nobin." 

"Yeah, don't call me that." Robin's eyes squinted with displeasure.

"But if Papa's 'Nook'-" Alice rationalized, "It only follows that you should be 'Nobin'. Right?"

"It's just different." Robin insisted.

"How?" 

"It's just not _cool_ , okay?"

"Cool? Why would you want to be 'cool'?"

"You haven't gotten out much since the tower, have you?" Robin teased.

"I've been loads of places." Alice huffed, "And this cage? My least favorite in all the realms. So, mind letting me out of here, _Nobin_?"

"Only if you stop calling me that." Robin glared at the other blonde.

Erroneously interpreting the blue-eyed girl's silence as an agreement, Robin flipped a lever, commencing a mechanical process. Using the function of a conveyor belt, the cage was hoisted up. An archer and an inventor, Robin must be regarded as a very virtuous young woman.  

As the bars were elevated higher and higher, Alice felt her stomach settling down. Her heart stopped beating anxiously. Alice was thrilled, soothed by the fact that she had been liberated from the dreaded confinement.

Facing Robin with a lopsided smirk, the smaller girl took a few steps forward. A twinkle of mischief flashed inside Alice's cerulean eyes. She couldn't refrain from teasing Robin, there was just something so fulfilling about engaging in a round of witty banter. 

"Thank you. Nobin." Alice quipped, earning a frown from Robin.

The deafening roar of a creature interrupted Robin's indignation, both golden-haired girls twisted their heads toward the area where the shrill holler had originated. Oddly enough, Robin was glowing with excitement.

"That's him! That's the monster." Robin chirped, "I've been tracking him for days."

"Wait, wait, wait. I know that sound." Alice announced, "That's no monster. That's a friend."

"Yeah, well, your friend's been tormenting villages. And I have an arrow with his name on it." Robin gave Alice a parting glance, "See ya around, Tower Girl."

With a smug grin, Robin sprinted away, in pursuit of the mysterious beast. Her long legs took efficient strides across the pasture, displaying the characteristics of a valiant paladin.

"Wait!" Alice bellowed, "No, you cannot shoot him! Stop!"

Rushing toward the green-eyed interloper, Alice struggled to keep up with Robin's rapid pace. It must be easier for the archer to maneuver, clad in a pair of trousers. Alice felt restricted by the narrow skirt of her dress, or at least, that was the excuse she chose to believe. 

The beginning of a quest, two girls embarking on an adventure, seeking some grand self-discovery. Rivals. Friends. Lovers. Slightly subtle differences define the imposed titles. Instead of natural compatibility, the slippery ties of destiny were intertwining their lives together.

A fated encounter, maybe so, an instantaneous connection, no doubt. Their hearts bore similar wounds. Both young women felt a genuine pull toward one another. It seemed almost as if the same emptiness resided within each of them. Robin Mills and Alice Jones, perhaps more than a strong infatuation, a sense of comradeship, some playful banter, not quite exactly love at first sight, but for a long time, it was good enough.

* * *

Clear, blue skies, rays of light baptized the children frolicking throughout the playground. Swooshing down the slide, rocking along the swings. Giggles and chuckles echoed across a crowded park, the innocence of youth. A gentle breeze blew over the grass, fragile, green blades fluttered in the wind.  

It was entirely too sunny, more cheerful than Tilly had expected the day to be. She trudged toward the clearing, the vast field beside a marina. Streaks of fluffy, white foam trailed behind the yachts departing from the harbor. Ripples rolling across the shimmering surface of the water. Tilly envied them, how the boats were so eager to embark on a journey.

To say that Tilly was overwhelmed would be a gross understatement. Hesitating with every footstep, the blonde didn't want to do this. She hated the idea of snuffing out someone's wishful aspirations. Eloise Gardner symbolized a beacon of hope, a fantasy that Detective Rogers could cling on to. Why should Tilly be encouraged to tarnish that feeling? It just didn't seem right.

A path that appeared to be far longer than it was, weathering down holes into the bottom of Tilly's shoes and at the center of her heart. _Actions have consequences_. A voice whispered in Tilly's head, a soft murmur that attempted to warn her, but she couldn't indulge those ghosts. Tilly shoved both hands inside the pockets of her jacket.

At a distance, Tilly could see Detective Rogers and Henry Mills, sitting on a park bench, their backs facing the blonde. This was her last chance, she still had enough time to turn back. Dragging her feet across the ground, Tilly made eye contact, the two men as they turned around. Throat constricted tightly, she found it hard to breathe, a reluctance to go through with the plan was lodged inside her lungs.

"Hey!" Detective Rogers cried out, jumping from off the bench, "Hey!"

Spinning around, Tilly stomped away, trying to flee. She brought an arm up to her head, fingers raking across a bundle of golden curls. The blonde could hear heavy thuds, Detective Rogers and Henry Mills were running after her. She had lost her opportunity to escape, it was too late.

"Hey!" Detective Rogers yelled.

"Where's she going?" Henry grumbled.

Shuffling back and forward, Tilly felt tugged by two forces, the guilt that she festered over what had happened to Detective Weaver, and her own sense of righteousness.

"Hey, we were waiting." Detective Rogers caught up to Tilly, "Did you find anything?" 

"Yeah, I found something." Tilly groused, begrudgingly looking at the raven-haired man, "But you don't want to hear this."

"Of course I do." Detective Rogers naively insisted. 

"No, I should go." Tilly turned to leave, torn in half by an inner conflict that she couldn't conceal. 

"Hey, stop!" Detective Rogers ordered, "Whatever you've got, just get on with it."

Drea. Drizzle. Rain. The tragic tale of the mysterious Eloise Gardener, the young woman who should never be found. A story that was as fictional and subpar as the novels written by Henry Mills.

"Okay." Tilly released a sigh, a fabricated recollection began spilling from her lips, "I spoke to a few of the runaways from the old group home. There was a guy who used to go out with a girl A girl by the name of Rain. She wrote poetry, loved Salinger. Was constantly drawing in her notebook. So, I checked him out, okay? And-"

Stuffing a hand into her pocket, Tilly pulled out a scrunched-up piece of paper. Yellow. Green. Blue. Purple. Red. Orange. All the colors that were required to illustrate an authentic lie.

"And, uh, he gave me this." Tilly presented the painting to Detective Rogers, unable to gaze into his eyes as she deceived him.

Eager for answers, the raven-haired man unraveled the crumpled parchment. A jigsaw puzzle piece, the solution of a riddle. Detective Rogers opened Eloise's journal, browsing through the pages. He placed the sheet next to the unevenly ripped border.

"This, this drawing's from her. This is from Eloise." Detective Rogers stated, sharing a glance with Henry, "That guy, did he say where she is?" 

Head tilting to the side, Tilly shifted her eyes away from Detective Rogers. Rendered speechless by her own incrementing remorse, she couldn't bear to look at him.

"Hey." Detective Rogers said softly, "What?"

"She's dead." Tilly blurted out. 

"How?" A somber expression fell upon the police officer's face. 

"Car accident." Tilly averted gazing at the raven-haired man's cerulean irises, "There was a stolen car, and since her real name wasn't Rain. They couldn't identify the body."

"Hey, I'm so sorry-" Henry glanced at Detective Rogers, declaring his condolences, an empty gesture.

"I need to be alone." Detective Rogers interjected, jerking away from Tilly and Henry.

The poor man was devastated, as if locating Eloise Gardener had been his sole purpose in life, the reason why he existed. Without another word, Detective Rogers sauntered off, a defeated and broken hero, unable to fulfill a promise that he made to the lingering ghost of a missing girl.

Watching the disconcerting mannerisms of a brokenhearted man, Tilly started walking away in the opposite direction. She flipped the hood of the jacket over her head, eyes glistening with tears. The blonde felt ashamed, as indicated by her slouching down posture as she meandered along the sidewalk.

The sun continued to shine from above, a firm fixature adorning its place across the stratosphere. Not one cloud amongst the celestial ceiling, an entirely too luminous and bright panorama, exhibiting a sharp contrast to the shadows that inhabited the golden-haired girl's thoughts, pressing heavily upon her shoulders. 

After spewing a woven narrative, constructing the last chapter in Eloise Gardener's legend, Tilly had a huge cross to carry. The blonde would steel her heart, even if only due to the fear of being crushed under its weight. Regardless of the circumstances, for once in her life, she felt resentment. Tilly couldn't help but despised the fact that she was always forced to confront all her demons alone.


	61. Moral Scruples

Chapter 61

Moral Scruples

* * *

 

Some decisions bear unforeseen repercussions. For every significant occurrence, there is an equally notable residual effect. Taking into account all the possible ways that a scenario can unravel might not seem feasible, but the effort must be implemented nevertheless. People are capable of hurting others when they fail to predict the consequences of an action. 

Guilt. Shame. Mortification. These corrosive feelings are the byproducts of a reckless choice. A toxic aftershock of vices, weathering down a person's willpower, creating blotches across an individual's soul. Seething lesions, opening up, protruding ooze and blood, festering until the infection becomes too great for a single heart to withstand.

Flickering lights shimmered across the darkness of the night. Red. Blue. Flashes alternating between the two colors, glowing against brick walls. The sound of loud sirens reverberated throughout the crowded street. Police automobiles. Emergency vehicles. The fuzzy noise of radios. An assortment of rambunctious stimuli, disturbing the typical monotony of the neighborhood.

Hyperion Heights, the quietest district in all of Seattle, where nothing scandalous ever happened. Police officers lined up along the exterior of a building, creating frivolous barriers of yellow tape. A crime scene. The bindings were meant to protect the evidence located within the premises.

Civilians surrounded the edifice, gossip and rumors were spreading across the multitude of clamorous spectators. What an upsetting incident. Victoria Belfrey had been keeping a woman as her hostage inside the sequestered property. Eloise Gardener, the missing girl who was now a newfound sensation.

Tilly heard the chatter amongst the curious onlookers, she navigated through the labyrinth of service workers and police officers, approaching an ambulance. The blonde skipped along the pavement, a green jacket's hood covered her golden curls.

Detective Rogers. The courageous police officer who had found Eloise Gardener, despite Tilly's trail of fabricated evidence. She knew that apologizing might be a useless endeavor, but it was worth a try. Sheepishly and desperate, Tilly fumbled toward the dark-haired man.

"What do you want?" Detective Rogers grunted, regarding the blonde with a tinge of underlying anger.

"To say I'm sorry about the page. Weaver said it was for the best." Tilly apologized profusely, hoping that the man would forgive her misdeeds, "And I can't always figure that out for myself."

"Take a look at what he was covering up." Detective Rogers bobbed his head toward the ambulance behind Tilly. 

Turning around begrudgingly, Tilly spotted a woman inside the vehicle. Eloise Gardener, being treated by a couple of paramedics. Fiery-orange locks of hair, older than what Tilly had envisioned, but she didn't have time to dwell on Eloise's unimaginable appearance, the state of the blonde's friendship with Detective Rogers was her main priority right now.

"Now you tell me, was that for the best?" Detective Rogers bowed closer to Tilly briefly, before pulling back, emphasizing his chagrin.

Tilly pivoted to face Detective Rogers, a somber expression on her face as she recognized the grim emotion that had blazed across the man's handsome facial features. The cerulean shade of his irises darkened to a dull cobalt, the acerbic hue of disappointment.

"You know what? I understand." Detective Rogers voiced his sentiments, "I'm just disappointed. You're not the person I thought you were."

Eyes glossing over with simmering unshed tears, Tilly felt as though she might be sick, swallowing bile. The blonde watched as Detective Rogers boarded the ambulance, taking a seat next to Eloise Gardener. Through her clouded vision, Tilly could have sworn that she had seen the woman smirking at her. Not all monsters possessed sharp teeth and large claws, some chose to disguise themselves as damsels in distress.

A fragile mind that enjoyed playing cruel tricks, or a malignant woman who toyed with people's feelings, Tilly couldn't endure the notion of being hated by Detective Rogers. The golden-haired girl stayed in the middle of the road for a few more seconds, staring blankly as the red and white truck drove off. 

The moment transpired in slow motion, the blinking lights of the ambulance illuminated Tilly's face. Heart thumping roughly against her breastbone, the blonde knew that it was time to depart, the cardiac palpitations resembled the beating of a war drum. With splintered spirits, Tilly clutched the straps of her backpack. Shoulders slumping, she shifted around and began to trudge away from the crime scene. 

Entranced in the opaque veil of despair, Tilly didn't notice how two familiar brown eyes were fixated on her. Lurking within an alleyway, Ivy Belfrey had been witnessing the entire incident, several meters away from the blonde, concealed by the shroud of darkness that engulfed the narrow passage. 

The raven-haired girl pressed a palm over her left breast, yearning to reach out and comfort Tilly, but she couldn't indulge in such trivial matters. Eloise Gardener had been present, overdramatizing the fictional tale of her kidnapping, flirting with Detective Rogers, and conducting the last stage of Ivy's revenge. Despite their mutually beneficial alliance, she must never allow the woman to uncover her _secret fondness_ for the blonde.

Secret fondness, what a minimization. Warm affection, a slightly better euphemism. Gut-wrenching love, the most accurate term. None of these feelings could alter the course of action that Ivy was going to take, so after suppressing a whimpering noise that bubbled from the back of her throat, she sauntered onward. The show must go on. The brunette rubbed against her chest, using concentric circles. Ivy's breathing slowly steadied and she hindered the tears that had been threatened to fall.

Murder. Defamation. Lies. Ivy had perpetrated so many countless atrocities. Poisoning the nameless ruffian who used to be considered a 'person of interest' in the Eloise Gardener case. _Check_. Ensuring that Victoria incriminated herself by taking Eloise to this abandoned building. _Check_. Waiting for Detective Rogers to follow the breadcrumbs, the elaborately planted clues.

 _Checkmate_. Victoria Belfrey was being dragged across the street by a couple of police officers. The short-haired woman's gaze lingered upon Tilly, almost as if she suspected that the fleeing golden-haired girl had something to do with her current predicament. An astonishingly perceptive theory, everything that Ivy did could be correlated back to Tilly, the brunette's ulterior motivation.

Adjusting the silk scarf on her neck, Ivy regained a credible semblance of composure. She threaded a hand through her raven curls. The brunette inhaled a soothing puff of air, converting the breath into an aggravated sigh when she exhaled. Ivy was ready for her debut role as a dazzling actress.   

Time to make the climatic move, and finish the game with a triumphant flair. Ivy scampered toward her mother and the arresting police officers. Theatrical and expressive, she pretended to be frazzled and alarmed. Men were pathetic, so pitifully susceptible to the charm of a vulnerable girl.

"Oh, my God, Mother! I just heard." Ivy feigned concern for Victoria, and then rotated around to address the men, "Officers, may I have a minute? Just to say goodbye."

Flashing a grateful smile, Ivy was waiting until the police officers had scattered off before directing her attention back toward Victoria. The raven-haired girl's amicable disposition flickered, the corners of lips twitched to produce a taunting smirk. Vindication. Standing at the precipice of a monumental achievement, Ivy loathed the tiny shard of her soul that still longed for Victoria's love.

An ardent, palpable amount of scorn blistered across her mother's eye, the cyan irises displayed an iridescent glow. With only a look, Victoria could wordlessly confess how much she hated her youngest daughter. The woman's mouth twisted into a snarling frown. Ivy wouldn't have the pleasure of revealing where her loyalties lied, Victoria already knew.

"Stop pretending." Victoria growled, "I know you're awake."

"You always did underestimate me." Ivy taunted, "I knew Detective Rogers was obsessed with this Eloise Gardener case, so I poisoned the only person he knew was connected to it. Rogers did the rest of the work himself."

Uttering her confession in a mocking tone, Ivy's half-hearted efforts at compressing the resentment that she had burrowed underneath a layer of petty sarcasm and cynical remarks.

"Why did you do this, Drizella?" Victoria asked, Ivy's true name slipping out.

Rapunzel Tremaine, audacious enough to demand an answer that was far too complex and lengthy. Her daughter had been now presented with the challenge of condensing years of verbal abuse and emotional neglect into a single, eloquent response. 

"So, I could finally be free of you." Ivy replied, leaning over to embrace her mother, whispering in the older woman's ear, "And now she's free of you, too, and you're the prisoner."

Reclining back and concluding the hug, Ivy gestured at the police officers to come retrieve their culprit. The men complied, tugging Victoria away from her daughter. Strong hands latching around the woman's arms, she flailed and struggled against their grip.

A defiant gleam still remained lit behind Victoria's dark pupils. Relinquished from her position as the chief executive officer of a company that she had created, wrongfully accused of heinous crimes, in a few hours, Victoria Belfrey was going to lose everything, and yet, through it all, the woman still felt superior, clinging onto an unrelenting ideology of pride. 

"You stupid child." Victoria cried out, "You have no idea what you just let crawl out into this world."

Idyllic threats, ignorant warnings, the parting message from a cruel creature who had never truly been Ivy's mother. _You've made your bed, now lie in it._ A quote from a book, or the closing argument spoken at a courtroom. Judge, jury, and executioner, Ivy donned the mantle of all three. The fleeting illusion of contentment, the brunette smirked as Victoria was thrown into the backseat of a police vehicle.

"But you will find out." Victoria chanted the ominous mantra, even as a police officer closed the car door, "Yes, you will. You will find out."

With an unwavering conviction, the raven-haired sorceress glared on, her auburn fractals burned a hole into the black and white automobile, the tires spinning as the vehicle departed. The carriage of this realm, escorting the despicable woman to an equivocal dungeon. Victoria Belfrey, Rapunzel Tremaine, the evil stepmother, the moniker didn't matter, the antagonist who had plagued Ivy's life was defeated.

Relishing the taste of vengeance, a coveted prize that Ivy had waited almost two decades to collect. The brunette should be happy, but she evidently wasn't. _Loneliness_. Scoring the winning point in a match didn't mean much without the thunderous applause of a cheering crowd. 

Ivy's rueful grin faltered, nostrils flaring up in frustration, Victoria's final words echoed across the young woman's head. She dispersed the thoughts flowing through her mind. Victoria's foolish attempt at fracturing Ivy's bond with Eloise wouldn't be successful, she was _not_ a stupid child.  

Eloise Gardener, Mother Gothel, the enchantress who had once ensnared Rapunzel inside a tower. Ivy sold her soul to a devil. Blood on her hands, the price she paid in order to join the sinister woman's coven of witches. Power, infinite mounds of magic, the strength necessary to overrule the rules of true love.

Ivy would never delude herself. She acknowledged that Tilly's affection was a brittle, hollow feeling, the vestigial essence of Alice's superficial predilection for Drizella. Both young women were simply empty shells, the remnants of their former selves, but Ivy did not care. She had grown attached to the fantasy, the inconsequential story of the sophisticated rich girl and the charismatic vagrant.

Confronted by a prophesized doom, Ivy and Tilly, the blossoming relationship between two girls who were not destined for one another. The brunette and the blonde, dark and light, the liaison that might be an aversion against nature. Ivy needed to become more powerful, enough to the fabric of fate itself. 

Unconstrained by moral scruples, Ivy was willing to do anything for Tilly, devoted to the belief that concepts such as good and evil were tethering at the cusp of idealistic naivety. Being a member of Eloise's cult would provide formidable support and invaluable resources, Ivy must conform to the lead witch's ordinances, even at the cost of further blackening her own heart.

Yet, when everything was said and done, a deep trepidation pang against the center of Ivy's ribcage, she felt a presence, perhaps her conscious, an entity that had vanished long ago, probably on the night of Anastasia's death. It stood to reason, for all her resolution and strife, if Ivy kept corrupting her heart, Tilly might not be inclined to graciously accept such a damaged vessel.


	62. Mothers

Chapter 62

Mothers

* * *

 

Piercing through the faded clouds in the night sky, the moon shined a silvery, white light upon a peaceful manor. The lunar beams entered through the windows, bouncing off the drapes and illuminating the stone walls. A glittery glow sparkled off the marble surface, tiny specks of granite shimmered brightly.

A perpetual quietude enveloped the atmosphere, a few shadows on the corners of the ceiling. The enclosed area was spacious, furnished with large wardrobes and wide trunks. A bookshelf could be found near the nightstand, full of hardcover novels, arranged by alphabetical order. A couple of plushies and toys were organized along the surface of the table, a meticulously neat display.

Perceiving a slight thud, a pair of eyelids fluttered open, revealing two hazel irises, gleaming with a yellowish-orange hue. An extremely light sleeper, Anastasia had been awakened by the faint creaking sound that kept approaching her bedroom. Shuffling to sit upright on the mattress, the brunette leaned back against the headboard, cotton blankets pooling at her waist.

The door screeched, slowly being pushed inwardly. A small silhouette scampered across the chambers, soft raps echoing throughout the confined quarters. An amused grin began to plaster itself onto Anastasia's face. Scooting over to make space for the impending intruder, she peeled back the bedsheets. 

"A-Ana?" A voice murmured meekly, "I h-had a nightmare."

Unkempt raven tresses, dark eyes glazed over by a thin veil of moisture, Drizella stared at her older sister with an immeasurable amount of affection. She kept her hands clapped together, averting Anastasia's inquisitive gaze. A crimson blush invaded Drizella's cheeks, she bit her lower lip, an adorable pout.

"Come on now, get in here. It's freezing cold." Anastasia smiled lovingly, patting the vacant spot on the mattress.

Drizella's face lit up, she nodded eagerly before beginning to climb on top of the bed. The younger brunette crawled toward Anastasia, knees and palms dragging across the sea of blankets and quilts. Greeted by her elder sister's open arms, Drizella settled down beside Anastasia, nestling into the brown-haired girl's chest.

Tucking Drizella's head under her chin, Anastasia placed a firm hand over the little brunette's back. She readjusted herself to accommodate for Drizella's presence, curling up around the smaller girl's body. Fingers combed through a thick cluster of raven curls, a soothing action that always managed to comfort Drizella.

After a few minutes, Anastasia felt the other girl's head nuzzle into her neck. Gentle puffs of air brushed against the older brunette's collarbone, Drizella's breathing tingled across Anastasia's sensitive skin. She could deduct that there was something more than a mere nightmare troubling Drizella.

"Ana?" Drizella's sweet voice bounced off from the concrete walls, reverberating through Anastasia's chambers.

"Yes, Drizzy?" Anastasia cooed tenderly, fingers kneading the smaller girl's scalp.

Head tilted back, Drizella looked up at her elder sister, lip quivering with fear. An emptiness expanded throughout the smaller girl's pupils, the melancholic belief that she was not worthy of Anastasia's attention. Shame, insecurities and doubts, a distressing blend of tumultuous emotions brewed across Drizella's face, and it nearly broke Anastasia's heart into pieces.

"I-I sort of-" Drizella paused, eyes swelling up with tears, "I accidentally ripped my teddy bear, and- I know that Mother won't buy me another one. S-She'll say that I need to take better care of my possessions. But I can't sleep without it- Then, then she'll say that I am too old to sleep with toys- And I-"

A finger pressing against Drizella's lips, an action that concluded the unnecessary slew of apologies and excuses. Anastasia smiled at her beloved sister, unfazed by the smaller girl's admission. An outburst of aggressive magic. Drizella had accidentally broken a lot of things since Rapunzel's unexpected return and Cecelia's sudden departure. The younger girl's powers were awakening, but she wasn't able to control her impulses, not to the level of discipline that Anastasia could.

Coiling a hand around Drizella's chin, Anastasia surged forward and placed a kiss on the younger brunette's forehead, conveying as much love as she possibly could. Rapunzel Tremaine. The mother that both girls shared was only favoring one. Anastasia vowed to become an adequate substitute, to fill the hole that Rapunzel's lack of the maternal affection had carved into her youngest daughter's heart.

"It's okay, Drizella. It's fine. Mother doesn't have to know. Everyone needs something to help them sleep better, to have pleasant dreams." Anastasia reassured, addressing each one of Drizella's concerns, "I'll make you a doll tomorrow."

"R-Really?" Drizella stammered, leaning into Anastasia's touch.

Sniffles, holding back unshed tears, Drizella stared up at Anastasia with so much unconstrained love and admiration that the older girl's breath hitched at the sight. She believed that Anastasia was invincible, her elder sister could change the flow of the tides and alter the direction of the wind currents.

Drizella's faith in Anastasia was a drug, a rush of purpose that the older brunette could not ignore. Those two, sparkling auburn eyes were Anastasia's paper lanterns, twin beacons that would always guide her home. At all costs, she needed to preserve Drizella's light, for both of their sakes.

"Yes, I promise." Anastasia nodded, pulling the bedsheets over them, "Tomorrow, I'll make you a customized doll, one of a kind."

Satisfied by Anastasia's proposal, Drizella sunk into the pillow, shifting her head closer to the older girl's face. Facial features softening, exhibiting a calmer demeanor, the smaller brunette grinned, a gesture drenched with an unbridled sincerity that her smiles had been recently deprived of.

Relishing a temporary moment of contentment, Drizella permitted a wandering thought to cross her mind. Eyebrows creasing with curiosity, she opened up her mouth to ask a question that lingered in the air, briefly interrupted by an obstructive yawn.

"You said, that everyone needs something to help them sleep better. So, what is that for you?" Drizella muttered the inquiry groggily, eyelids weighed down by fatigue, "What helps you sleep better, Ana?"

The words fluttered out from Drizella's lips, innocent and pure. Anastasia was still smiling, in a sagely manner, resembling a benevolent fairy, but her amber irises blazed with the fierce conviction of a protective lioness, and Drizella felt safe, laying against the taller girl's arms.

"You." Anastasia whispered, pressing a second kiss to her sister's forehead, "I love you, Drizella." 

A pink hue overtook Drizella's cheeks, and unable to match the Anastasia's verbalize sentiment, she buried her face into a sprawled-out mess of brown tendrils, cuddling against crook of the older girl's neck.

"I-I love you too, Ana." Drizella's muffled response, embarrassed by her sister's candor.

Nothing more needed to be said, Drizella's hands clutched the front of Anastasia's satin nightgown, and she snuggled against her elder sibling's soft bosom. Starting with circular motions, Anastasia administered tender massages onto Drizella's lower back, the pads of her fingers grazed each nub along the younger girl's spine. Symptoms of malnutrition. Anastasia would have to ensure that Drizella ate more. She ran a hand down her sister's torso, alarmed by the bony state of the smaller brunette's ribcage. 

Drizella drifted off to a peaceful slumber within a few minutes. Anastasia's eyelids refused to close, worried about her sister's well-being. The little girl was barely eating, body thinning out. The dark areas of her eyes were becoming more pronounced. Drizella suffered from constant, episodic nightmares that she wouldn't dare to discuss. Anastasia had hypothesized her own theories, all revolving around the manner in which their mother neglected to acknowledge Drizella's existence.

Laying against her side, an arm encircling the smaller brunette, Anastasia wondered how she could ease the ache that chipped away Drizella's spirits and was reflected onto the slim girl's health. Hours passed, a serene silence began engulfing the bedroom, until the only sound that remained perceivable were the subdued humming noises made by Drizella's hushed snores, and Anastasia still hadn't been able to formulate a solution for her younger sister's plight.

Anastasia used to read about distant lands, places where Rapunzel's disconcerting apathy could never reach Drizella. Stories from Agrabah and Camelot, even Atlantis, recollections of foreign realms governed by nocturnal creatures and strange universes with much prettier clothing. So many better worlds laid out there, refuges and sanctuaries, awaiting the arrival of intrepid explorers, but Anastasia knew that Drizella didn't long for an escape. The young girl just wanted a mother who would love her unconditionally, the one sole request that Anastasia was incapable of granting.

* * *

The laws of men are flawed, corruptible rules that tend to hinder the righteous and are susceptible to the manipulations of the wicked. It is said that without constitutions and mandates, society might plunge into chaos. As if all the famine, disease, injustices, poverty, prejudice, and senseless violence that reigned across the world were petty grievances, controlled by a set of written statements on old, weathered parchments.

Victoria Belfrey might be going to prison, but irreparable damage was already done. The lies and misconceptions that the cruel woman had managed to weave into a scornful narrative against Ella Mills, or rather, this realm's Jacinda Vidrio, were impossible to erase. Victoria's parting gift, a forget-me-not, laced with thorns and pricks. 

Jacinda, a young mother, mostly just drank hot cocoa frosted in whipped cream, but somehow had acquired imaginary alcoholic tendencies without even consuming any actual liquor. The government wouldn't allow Jacinda to regain custody of Lucy, and therefore, two social workers were promptly sent to retrieve the little girl. A ward of the state, kept away from a living, breathing, competent mother who adored her.

For whom the bell tolls, a resonating ding rang throughout the floor. The cranking of metal gears, the elevator doors slid opened, Jacinda bursting into the main lobby. A single purpose, she only had her eyes focused on Lucy, rushing toward the small brunette with a gleeful expression. If the universe was indeed fair and just, the story would end here, mother and daughter, a heartwarming reunion.

"Lucy!" Jacinda yelled, both arms fanned out

"Mom!" Lucy replied, embracing her mother.

A delightful hug between parent and child, Ivy watched the scene unfold before her, unable to decide if she felt jealousy or pity. Legs crossed gracefully, Ivy sat on the couch, perched like a young queen, inheriting a throne of malice and spite. No longer forced to dwell behind the receptionist desk, the raven-haired girl was now the owner of Victoria's company, free to do as she pleased.

"What's going on?" Lucy protested, confused and flustered, "No one's telling me what's going on!"

Back facing Ivy and the social workers, as per usual, Jacinda was so engrossed in her own happiness that she failed to notice anything else. A tinge of resentment simmered across Ivy's heart, the tiny fragment that still craved for a sister, even if Jacinda would never measure up to Anastasia's memory. 

"No, it's okay, baby." Jacinda promised, oblivious to the two government agents who stood next to Ivy, "We're gonna get to go home."

"Well-" The female social worker spoke.

"What?" Jacinda interjected anxiously. 

"Jacinda, meet Miss Scarlet with social services." Ivy pointed at the woman, not bothering to remember the name of Miss Scarlet's partner, "I have been trying to explain to her that Lucy should go with you. I mean, this is outrageous."

The statement was true, Ivy had spent the last couple of hours trying to persuade Miss Scarlet and her nameless associate to reinstate Jacinda's guardianship. A foolish endeavor, slivers of compassion seeped out of Ivy's self-made icy exterior.

"It's just procedure." Miss Scarlet proclaimed, as if that phrase explained why a daughter should be separated from her caring mother, "Custody was given to Ms. Belfrey for a reason. Until we can review the case, Lucy needs to come with us."

"Into the system?" Jacinda muttered in disbelief.

Throat constricted with an emotion that Ivy could still identify as sympathy. She blinked her brown eyelids, swiping away the subtle veneer of moisture that had developed along two hollow orbs. Ivy's periods of weakness were slowly incrementing in frequency.

"No." Jacinda's lower lip quivered.

"Come along, Lucy." Miss Scarlet ordered, yanking Lucy's hand.

Mothers and daughters. Victoria and Ivy. Jacinda and Lucy. Two polarizing scenarios had transpired in the same evening, but disentangling to a tragic conclusion. The physical separation that Jacinda was experiencing with Lucy bore no comparison to the emotional chasm wedging itself between Ivy and her mother.

"Mom! Don't let them take me!" Lucy yelled, being dragged off by Miss Scarlet and the mute behemoth that accompanied the woman, "I don't want to go!"

"Hey. Hey, hey, no-" Jacinda escorted Lucy and her captors to the elevator, "It's okay, baby."

"Mom." Lucy whimpered, ignoring her mother's reassurances.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay." Jacinda insisted.

"Mom!" Lucy cried.

"I'm gonna get you back." Jacinda vowed, "I promise."

As the elevator doors were shutting, Jacinda stared at her daughter, feigning a confidence and certainty that she didn't have. Meaningless and futile proclamations. The dark-haired woman had uttered a promise without boasting the fervor and resources necessitated to fulfill the oath.

If Ivy lowered her deeply embedded shields and screens, she would have to profess that witnessing the severance of Jacinda from Lucy had not been an affable ordeal. It was all overwhelmingly glum and despondent, possibly even a little bit ironic, how justice didn't seem to sponsor the heroes this time.

Good and evil, such frivolous notions. Ivy could never abide to the decrees that chose to sequester a young girl from her doting mother. Ordinances that had legalized the kidnapping of a child. Archaic. Misinformed. There was no virtuous principle behind the commandments set by mankind, and for better or worse, Ivy would always dictate her own destiny.


	63. Three Sisters

Chapter 63

Three Sisters

* * *

 

The golden sunlight glimmered on the polished table. Multicolored stools of thin thread and thick yarn. Folded pieces of fabric. A large bag of cotton balls and a basket full of small feathers, commonly used as pillow stuffing. Long strips of satin cloth. Scattered transparent beads and shiny buttons. Sharp tools and carving utensils were scattered across the wooden surface.

Snip. Pull. Cut. Skin pricked by a needle, unaccustomed to hazards of sewing. It had been a long time since Anastasia decided that she could fabricate a soft doll from spare material without any former training as a seamstress. In possession of a textbook, the spine read, _A Comprehensive Study: The Art of Toymaking_. She erroneously assumed that articulate words would be able to substitute for well-rehearsed experience, the pages provided little information on the intricacies of practical craftsmanship.

Stationed at her desk, an exhausted sigh slipped out from Anastasia's lips, a sound that echoed through her empty bedroom. A total of seven inept attempts at making an object that even slightly resembled a doll, she officially began to lose hope. The thimble on Anastasia's thumb didn't do much for the girl's other four fingers, and after several hours of stabbing herself, the brunette wondered if she had actually picked up the wrong textbook, perhaps one that was titled, _The Oriental Secrets of Acupuncture_.

Slumping against the table, Anastasia closed both eyes and massaged her forehead. Skull throbbing incessantly, the beginning stages of a migraine. Purchasing a new plushie at a nearby marketplace would be a lot easier, but that might entail informing Rapunzel about how the previous toy had been damaged. Shielding Drizella from their mother's wrath was more important than Anastasia's desire for convenience.

"Hey, what are you doing?" A playful voice hollered out, dabbed with a foreign accent.

Anastasia didn't have time to turn around, the intruder had already perched herself on top of the table. A gorgeous girl, ebony curls cascading beyond the shoulders, a dark skin complexion, two curious brown eyes stared down at Anastasia. Armed with an apple in one hand, Ella smiled, taking a quick bite of the fruit as she waited for her older stepsister to answer.

Ella came bearing gifts, dropping a bowl of red, juicy apples onto the table. She shoved the ceramic container closer to Anastasia, whose stomach betrayed her hunger by grumbling loudly. Nodding at Ella gratefully, Anastasia lifted one of the crimson fruits, sinking her teeth into its smooth flesh. After munching, the older girl swallowed, and began explaining her latest artistic endeavor.

"I'm making a doll for Drizella." Anastasia propped an arm beneath her chin, resting against a palm.

"Are you though?" Ella quirked up an eyebrow in amusement.

"Well, I am trying to!" Anastasia stifled a giggle, "And what are you doing? Taking a break from riding with Father?"

Wearing tight-fitting trousers that reached to the ankle, ending in a snug cuff, a satin tunic. The sweated glistening along Ella's forehead was a clear indicator that she had been riding. Ever since Cecelia's disappearance, Marcus felt compelled to spend time with Ella, hoping that they could find solace in each other's company.

Anastasia envied her stepsister’s freedom at times. Ella wasn't trying to earn Rapunzel's approval, she didn't care much for the woman's concept of conditional love. Anastasia and Drizella were obligated to don frilly dresses, participate in dull affairs, such lounging around on a sunny day, drinking tea, abiding to Rapunzel's ancient code of ethics. _Ladies don't wear trousers_. Etiquette and decorum. _Respectable women don't ride horses_. A ridiculous, antiquated notion. _It is a daughter's duty to marry a proper gentleman_. Heteronormative, for Anastasia's romantic inclinations, the probability of a scandal teethered along a fifty percent chance.

"More like, _the horse_ is taking a break from me." Ella shrugged, snickering lightly, "What's the doll's name?"

"Beatrice." Anastasia kept her expression neutral.

"Did you pick the name?" Ella pried.

"No. Drizella did." Anastasia shrugged, "I read Dante's _Divine Comedy_ to her one night."

Ella's eyes widened in disapproval, before her mouth contorted into a smirk. Anastasia's reading comprehension level was incontestable. _The Divine Comedy_ by Dante Alighieri, full of demons and angels, poetically conveying the concepts of hell and heaven. Heavy literature, way too mature for Drizella to be exposed to.

"And you _wonder_ why she has nightmares." Ella jested, "Eso no es un cuento de hadas."

"Drizella is tired of fairytales." Anastasia replied to Ella's native tongue, "She's g-growing up."

 _That's not a fairytale_. Although Anastasia was an avid fan of the romantic languages, hearing the phrase in Spanish did not make her feel any better. Drizella had grown tired of idealistic fables, indifferent to princesses and princes, the young girl rather listen to stories about flawed heroes, characters who weren't completely good or evil. Anastasia hated to see her sister develop a fondness for darker nature of life.

Finishing her apple, Anastasia shifted her focus back to the scraps of cloth that were spread out on the table's surface. A needle poking through the two segments of fabric, stitching them together to form a cylindrical pillowcase. After adding some cotton balls for stuffing, the narrow lump displayed some semblance to an arm. All hope was not lost. Anastasia had inherited a tiny bit of her father's aptitude as a tailor.

Ella watched in companionable silence, dark irises following along with Anastasia's every move. It was sort of exhilarating, to have a captive audience as she sewed, embroidering patches of linen, creating body parts. Two arms. Two legs. A torso. The circular head proved to be difficult, the symmetry required meticulous effort.

Knitting all the sections together, Ella had already consumed about three apples when Anastasia started designing the doll's attire. Instead of hours and minutes, the passage of time was more enjoyable if measured by the amount of fruit that Ella ate. Anastasia relished basking in the totality of her stepsister’s attention.

Glossy ribbons, silk trimmings, the dress was tailored to adjust around the doll's makeshift body. A floral pattern in the form of interlaced threads for the outfit, the main material of the garment had been selected by Drizella, torn pieces from an old, pretty scarf that the little girl owned.

Anastasia combined all the components, the needle darting in and out, with the final product being a gorgeous, prissy gown. Snapping the scissors shut, Anastasia cut a loose string. She glanced at Ella, who grinned appreciatively, admiring Anastasia's progress. Missing only the hair and the face, the doll was almost complete.

A rustling could be heard coming from the corridor adjacent to Anastasia's bedroom, the approaching footsteps warned the two older girls of Drizella's impending arrival. A few louder thumps on the concrete floor, incrementing in volume, and then, Drizella appeared at the doorway.

"She's always right on cue." Anastasia whispered, winking at Ella.

Shoulders slumped, Drizella sauntered toward Anastasia's workplace, balancing a mug in both hands. She walked slowly, head lowered down. Drizella's feet shuffled awkwardly, as if the ceramic goblet was too fragile, or her fingers were inadequate to carry the cup.

"Hey, Drizzy." Ella greeted, hopping off from the table.

"Hi, Ella." Drizella's voice lacked its usual cheerfulness.

"Come here, I want you to pick out the doll's hair color." Anastasia turned her chair to the side, welcoming Drizella with a gentle grin.

Anastasia waved at Drizella eagerly, beckoning her youngest sister to come nearer. She failed to notice Drizella's somber disposition, much too excited by the success of her toymaking exploits to see the depth of the sadness etched on the smaller brunette's face.

"Mother asked me to bring you hot cocoa, Ana." Drizella divulged, placing the mug on the table, "Just for you."

Drizella's last three words hung in the air, foreboding and full of resent. Anastasia frowned, sharing a knowing look with Ella. Both of them understood a dreadful secret, one that they managed to hide from Drizella. Sides had been accidentally chosen, loving both Rapunzel and Cecelia was not allowed, Ella, Drizella, the decision sealed their fates. Rapunzel would never care for children who dared to miss another woman.

Upon closer inspection, heated steam could be seen floating from out of the cup. Drizella's fingers were quite red, the repercussions of holding a scorching hot mug. Rapunzel's inattentive parental skills had grown to be borderline abusive. To make matters worse, the woman had asked one daughter to serve as a chamber maid to the other, not caring to provide Drizella with a second mug of hot cocoa.

"Oh, yes. I asked for just one so we could both share." Anastasia blatantly lied, her statement coated with a conviction that almost willed the words to be true.

"Really?" Drizella's facial features softened, she stared at Anastasia, uncertainty gleaming across her two brown eyes.

Lying to Drizella might be considered an act of compassionate, but that didn't lessen the ache of guilt and shame bubbling inside of Anastasia's stomach. She hadn't asked for hot cocoa. This was just one of Rapunzel's misguided presents, tributes of affection that the woman bestowed on Anastasia, while refusing to include Drizella and Ella.

"Of course." Ella reassured, becoming an accomplice to the benign deception, "Now pick a hair color. I want to see how Ana continues to mutilate her fingers."

"Hey!" Anastasia grinned in spite of herself, grateful for Ella's camaraderie.

Without warning, Ella wedged her arms beneath Drizella's shoulders and scooped the little girl up. She dropped Drizella onto Anastasia's hospitable lap, smiling warmly as the elder brunette embraced their youngest sister firmly. A bit of childish antics, enough to pierce the tension that Rapunzel's insensitive actions had created.

Astride over Anastasia's thigh, Drizella giggled, and everything was perfect again. Ella placed a hand on her older stepsister’s shoulder, symbolizing their unity, reaffirming a silent pact. Protecting Drizella from the coldness of the world, a vow that one of them would eventually forget.

"We have yellow yarn, gold yarn, brown yarn, black yarn, and red yarn." Anastasia pointed to each stool with one hand, the other arm stayed fastened around Drizella's waist.

"Yellow!" Drizella picked the lightest shade of blonde, leaning over the table.

Wiggling her nose with dissatisfaction, Anastasia was more inclined to choose the golden hue, a darker blonde, akin to brass. Conceding a smile, Anastasia remembered that this would be Drizella's doll, and the younger girl's wishes outweighed her arbitrary preferences.

"Alright." Anastasia retrieved the yellow yarn, shoving the other stools to the side, "Now, pick an eye color."

Drizella rested both elbows on the wooden surface of Anastasia's workstation, hands cradling her own chin as she scanned the trinkets offered as possible options. Green. Purple. Yellow. Orange. Red. Magenta. Black.

Sliding a couple of buttons and beads toward the small brunette, Anastasia's eyes lingered on the green buttons, partial to their jade shimmer. She subconsciously pushed several of them closer to Drizella's arms.

"There's no blue." Drizella lamented, fingertips brushing tenderly against the assortment of beads and gems.

"Yes, there is." Ella chimed in from where she stood, towering behind her seated stepsisters.

Ella bowed down, plucking a few black buttons and holding the discs in her palm. She presented them to Drizella, as if the pendants would now seem blue to the younger girl.

"That's black." Anastasia stated the obvious.

"Which is just a _really_ dark shade of blue." Ella retorted.

"By that logic, black is just the darkest shade of every color."

"So, you agree!"

"You're ridiculous, Ella."

"Sounds like you agree, Ana." Ella patted Anastasia's head.

A witty exchange of quips, the banter of two girls who loved each other dearly. Drizella's boisterous laughter was their reward. In the end, yellow yarn and two black buttons were unanimously anointed, the final decrees delegated by three sisters.

Chuckles erupted throughout Anastasia's bedroom, the sound of mischievous bickering. Anastasia pinched her fingers, and Ella joked with Drizella, at their older sister's expensive. The bond between them became stronger, unyielding formidable. After a while, when several of Anastasia's fingers were covered in red dots, the doll had been finished. Dejected and untouched, Rapunzel's hot cocoa stayed ignored to the side, growing as cold and insipid as the woman who brewed the beverage.

Beatrice, a beautiful girl. Golden hair, curls that dangled down her back. In Drizella's dreams, Beatrice could be a charismatic wanderer, exploring different worlds and lands. For Anastasia, she would become a valiant adventurer, defending the innocent. Ella, aspiring practicality, the doll was simply a loyal companion. Two black buttons. Blue. Green. Eye of the beholder. Beatrice, susceptible to the whims of creative ingenuity.

Perhaps Anastasia believed that she would shelter Drizella from their mother's cruelty forever. Maybe Anastasia was unaware of her own mortality, hardly a crime at fourteen. No one expected to die before having ever lived. Anastasia could not prepare for a future that she didn't imagine fathomable. _There is no greater sorrow than to be mindful of the happy times in misery_. Anastasia left behind joyful memories, but in times of melancholy, the noble girl's ghost reminded people of her absence and often brought the unwanted side-effect of despair.


	64. Tribulations

Chapter 64

Tribulations

* * *

 

Love does not make much sense. It is instinctive for people to protect themselves from pain and suffering, a primal defense mechanism of survival. Safeguarding the heart might be important, but in order to love, a person has to do the most absurd, irrational, inexplicable thing, give someone else the power to destroy you.

The lamp posts flickered off, tall steel beacons whose bulbs were powering down, adjusting to the approaching sunrise. The skies glimmered, shaded in darker hues of indigo, the mystical middle ground between blue and purple. On the fourth day of November, a chilly breeze blew softly, the air was becoming colder. Amidst a black sea of asphalt pavement, several commuters had already begun with their daily routines.

Wandering around the streets of Seattle, at the epicenter of Hyperion Heights, Tilly had spent all night strolling across the neighborhood. The blonde's feet stomped along the concrete sidewalk, the rubber soles of her shoes grinding against the cement surface. Reacting to the solar beams seeping through, the color of the stratosphere shifted as the hours passed, from murky cobalt to luminous azure.

Lost in a trance, Tilly must have embarked on a journey into somnambulism, sauntering through the alleyways without an actual destination. A lack of purpose, alienating Tilly from the rest of the world. Disappointment. The scornful flare in Detective Rogers cerulean irises had crushed Tilly’s heart. She often heard people claim that a individual should 'walk it off' when confronted by an unpleasant occurrence. Either induced out of guilt or due to the side-effects of her medication, Tilly opted to trek across the phantasmal town. 

Guided by hunger pangs, Tilly stumbled toward Roni's, the only restaurant in the city that would serve her a hamburger and a platter of fries before eight in the morning. A juicy slab of meat, cooked to near perfection, stacked over a bed of fresh lettuce leaves and scrumptious onion slices, in between a toasted, bun of white bread. Not to mention the accompanying plate of crispy potatoes wedges, seasoned with a mixture of salt, pepper, and garlic powder. 

Tilly found herself standing in front of a door, the swirling capital letters across an illuminated sign, blinking the word 'OPEN' like a flame beckoning a moth. Tilly thought that she must be an insect, incapable of cognizance, always leeching onto someone. Tilly felt unable to procure a self-sustaining reason for existing, so she attached herself to people who didn't feel hollow, such as Detective Weaver or his raven-haired partner. Ivy Belfrey, as empty and bleak as Tilly, but in a complimentary fashion, indicating that both of them could, or might, save each other from loneliness.

Exhaling a calming sigh, Tilly dispelled her glum thoughts. Perhaps the young woman's starvation had converted into an unnecessary episode of sorrow. Maybe desolation resided permanently within Tilly's heart, clawing its way, resurfacing to the forefront of her mind. She didn't have a family, or a home. Tilly was by herself, a discarded orphan who lived on the streets. These critical details suffocated the blonde, wrapping themselves around her neck.

"I mean, I knew everything about my mother, but how could I have not known that she kidnapped poor Eloise Gardener?" A female voice spoke, coming from inside of the establishment, Tilly could recognize the speaker without seeing her. 

"Perfect." An unseen male respond to Ivy, "That was great, Ivy."

"Really?" Ivy seemed different, more submissive and meek.

Hearing Ivy sound vulnerable and fragile, uttering phrases that tugged at Tilly's heartstrings, the blonde began to push open the door, hand coiling around the handle. She felt selfish, having forgotten about Victoria Belfrey's arrest. Ivy was all alone, scared and hurt. A gentle hug. A warm cup of hot chocolate. A shoulder to cry on. Tilly recited everything that she had to offer Ivy, and the list held very little value. Tilly would never be enough, not for someone like Ivy Belfrey, who deserved so much more.

"Yeah... Yeah, thank you so much for doing this interview." The man's exuberance in his diction, the unmistakable demeanor of Henry Mills, "I mean, I know it can't be easy to talk about what happened."

"You know, it's weird. I just I feel safe with you." Ivy gushed, “I mean, I know I can trust you with my story."

The words slithered along Tilly’s stomach, snake-like, making her feel revulsion. Fingers trembled, curling around the door handle as if the firm hold was anchoring Tilly to the world. The blonde's heart pounded so hard that the distressed organ pulsated against everything else inside, sending ripples of nausea throughout her body. _I feel safe with you_. The worst part, Tilly had always expected this to happen. Ivy Belfrey, the princess of a modern fairytale, tormented by a ruthless evil mother, now free to be with her charming prince, Henry Mills. An ideal finale, fade to black. 

The comments spilling out from Ivy's lips, coquettish and provocative. A thin sheen of moisture glossed over Tilly's eyes, hearing the spew of sweet compliments that Ivy was eagerly giving Henry. _It's not just because we're friends._ Ivy's flirtatious tone chipped away another piece of Tilly's heart. _You're a fantastic writer._ A blatant lie, Henry's novels were childish and insipid. _I'm a huge H-Town fan._ What did that even mean? A musical group? Henry looked way too old to be a member of a band. _Have you ever considered making your blog into a podcast?_ A blog, essentially a diary for people who desperately craved attention, turned into a podcast, an audiobook, designed to aide Henry's illiterate target audience of toddlers. _Maybe Belfrey Industries could be your sponsor now._ Tilly's knuckles became white, she tightened her grip on the aluminum bar.

Bile crept up against Tilly's esophagus, leaving an acidic flavor that tasted as bitter and gross as she felt. Being a sexual experimentation to a heterosexual girl wasn't an unforeseeable situation, but Ivy's torrid affair with Alice meant that the brunette must be bisexual, or pansexual. Whatever form of inclination, Ivy just didn't love Tilly. Hardly a transgression, not that the blonde could even blame her, Tilly rarely loved herself. 

Arm dropping down, her hand released the door handle, Tilly stepped back, leaving residual sweaty prints along the cylindrical tube that the restaurant's owner, Roni, might not appreciate. Despite feeling hungry, Tilly had loss her appetite, among other things. _The price of giving great love is risking that it won't be returned_. A symbolic gesture, Tilly was letting go of Ivy, it would be selfish to cling on, and in regards to the brunette, she could never stop herself from being altruistic.

The golden-haired girl's shoulders shook, jaw trembled, and the threat of tears burned against her eyes until she had to set them free. Tilly believed in love, soulmates, and that some grand, benevolent force governed over her destiny. The blonde wanted the best for Ivy. Wearing a sincere smile, she would gladly witness as the raven-haired girl received every possible type of joy, with whomever fate chose as a scene partner, and since that role wasn't going be played by a worthless vagrant, Tilly must chivalrously remove herself from Ivy Belfrey's story.

* * *

The clandestine floor at the Belfrey Towers was brimming with darkness, infected by shadows and cobwebs. A cloak of silence engulfed the chambers, the perfect vicinity to concoct evil schemes, secluded and hidden, a ghost to the world. The dim lighting, an orange glow, the rotation of a fan, rusted blades spinning around at a sluggish pace. In all of Seattle, no other place would be a better replacement for a witch's lair.

Confidence, a virtue that Ivy wore like a cozy sweater, she strolled out of the elevator, hips swaying, the clink of her heels echoed with each step. Pride, a vice that blinded Ivy to the reality of her situation. She didn't have magic in this realm, no way of preventing the curse from being broken by true love. Ivy wasn't any closer to acquiring the one thing that she wanted, if, for lack of a more appropriate label, Tilly could be considered a possession.

Crouched on the floor, Eloise Gardener tried to resuscitate a withered plant. Hands hovering over the brittle, dried stem, she attempted to cast a simple reinvigorating spell, but to no avail. Dead, the potted fern remained in its current state, a glorified twig impaling a ceramic urn full of lifeless soil.

Walking through the narrow corridor, Ivy crossed her arms and leaned against a wall. She stood behind Eloise, looking down and grimacing, unimpressed with the woman's lack of power. What good was a witch who couldn't perform magic? How would Eloise Gardner be of any use to Ivy?

"Huh." Ivy made her presence known, "It's pathetic. Kind of like your magic." 

"What do you expect in this realm?" Eloise didn't bother glancing at Ivy, "We should be outside."

"Where? Somewhere in the city? We'd both get thrown in the loony bin." Ivy paced around, situating herself in front of Eloise, "You just want to see your Detective Rogers again. Well, your one-night stand can wait. Anastasia can't. It's time to wake her up, so get gardening."

Waving her hands over the emaciated shrub to emphasize Eloise's failures, lips curling upward to form a cruel smirk, the brunette felt bold. The exquisitely manufactured disguise of Ivy Belfrey had endowed her with a petty sense of poise and self-assurance.

Jealousy, cracking at Ivy's battered and delicate mask. She hated the fact that Eloise, or rather, Mother Gothel, sought out Detective Rogers, a reincarnation of the raven-haired pirate, Captain Hook, Killian Jones. He was Eloise's second chance at a happy ending, and she didn't hesitate, the enchantress dug her fingers into the man's fragmented soul without any shred of reluctance, purposely causing a rift between him and Tilly. 

The gravity of Ivy's decisions began to dawn upon her. _Mother Gothel_ , the malignant witch who had cursed Killian's heart, preventing him from caring for his daughter, Alice Jones. A wretched discomfort squeezing Ivy's chest, her lungs striving to inhale a graceful breath. She conserved a garrisoned composure, reminding herself that Tilly and Alice were two completely different entities. A proficient liar, Ivy could even fool her own soul.

A slow, languid motion, Eloise lifted herself up from the ground, perched on both feet. She moved with the poise and the elegance of a binocellate cobra, orange stresses dangling down, resembling a serpent's hood. Sapphire eyes squinted, like two reptilian slits, surveying her prey before the fatal assault, and yet, Ivy held her ground, glowering back at Eloise.

"My dear Ivy, we've still got one small problem to work through." Eloise sneered, her statement laced with poison.

"Yeah, we're done making deals." Ivy scoffed, unable to withstand Eloise's intuitive gaze.

Under the scrutiny of the witch's unwavering stare, Ivy fled, walking away from the menacing woman. She feared that Eloise could see beyond Ivy's false pretenses. The brunette had almost retreated back to the elevator when Eloise's commanding voice boomed across the chambers.

"No, we're _not_." Eloise snarled.

Ivy stopped, slowly turning around. She fortified her heart, concealing all the problematic emotions that threatened to expose a secret. Remorse. Fear. Love. Sentiments hanging from Ivy's sleeve, weaknesses that Eloise might be capable of detecting. 

"Tell me why." Eloise demanded, "Why do you want to wake her?"

"Maybe, I just miss my sister." Ivy replied curtly.

A truth masquerading as a fib, these psychological games that Ivy and Eloise played were becoming increasingly dangerous. A poker game, with the highest stakes conceivable, Ivy's facial features couldn't falter, or she would undoubtedly lose the match.

"You don't strike me as a sentimental type." Eloise persisted, glaring into a pair of cunning auburn irises.

"Eh, fair enough." Ivy shrugged nonchalantly, "There is magic in that little lifeless body. Magic that belongs to me."

"Ah. Avarice." Eloise hummed, apparently pleased with Ivy's response, "That I understand. I need the girl. Find out where your mother hid the coffin." 

Eloise was satisfied with Ivy's ulterior motives, appeased by the glint of ambition that churned under the depths of the young woman's pupils. If the raven-haired girl craved immense power, then their objectives continued to be aligned. Dutiful and obedient, Ivy was a valuable pawn, but she must never become self-aware. 

"That won't be a problem. Mother only has so many properties under her name. I'll find Anastasia in no time." Ivy growled, flaunting her disdain for a sister that she had once loved dearly, "And then we will wake her up, and I will finally take back what's mine."

Ivy was frequently gesticulating about relationships and tribulations, where Tilly had been placed at the first layer of her thoughts. If Eloise started to suspect that Ivy's new persona harbored an embedded ulterior motive, the consequences would be perilous. The husk of Alice, the woman's own daughter, the girl that Ivy loved. What a twisted web, woven out of sheer coincidence and spiteful duplicity.

Thus far, Ivy shielded herself behind a fabricated sibling rivalry, fueled by partial veracities. She thirsted for Anastasia's magic, that much was certain, but not to wield it as a vigorous weapon. Ivy waged that accumulating masses of supernatural energy could engender enough strength to breach the tenets of true love, and sanction her union with Tilly. A sensibly arranged ploy, inconspicuously romantic, the equivalence of giving a bouquet of violet roses to a great paramour. 

Seducing Henry Mills, in order to pry him away from Jacinda, his wife. Draining the magical remnants out of her sister's corpse. Consenting to pacts with Mother Gothel, the woman who had condemned Alice to living inside a tower for all of her childhood. Misguided and ill-advised, Ivy believed that collecting an assortment of cardinal sins and stacking up each misdeed on top of the other would somehow create a happy ending. A fundamental rule of arithmetic, adding only negative components together could never yield a positive result.


	65. Adversaries

Chapter 65

Adversaries

* * *

 

The tragic story of Hamlet, the ill-fated Prince of Denmark, serves as a cautionary tale to all of those who seek retribution. The dreary play, written by William Shakespeare, dramatizes the vengeance that a young man named Hamlet exerts upon his uncle, Claudius. Instructed by the ghost of his father, the fallen king, Hamlet claims that Claudius had murdered his own brother to seize the throne. At the climax of the plot, Hamlet is able to avenge his father, killing Claudius, but at the cost of far too much. Hamlet loses a lover, a mother, and his own life, all in pursuit of a senseless vendetta. 

With a resounding thud, Alice closed the hardcover of the book, sending a soft vibration across the table. Along the spine, cursive letters spelled out the titled, _Hamlet_ , an incredibly sad novel. She pondered on the moral of the narrative, retaliation was a double-edged sword, a blade that wounded both the aggressor and the recipient. Alice vowed never to succumb to such a consuming hatred, regardless of whatever situation arises.

Glancing out the window, the blonde girl sighed. Stars scattered across a velvet curtain of black, a crescent moon perched at the center, fusing to create such a glittering, magnificent view. Another night stuck inside the tower, the prison imposed upon her by a sinister witch. _Mother Gothel_ , a heartless woman. Shaking her head from side to side, Alice chased away the wave of resentment that simmered within her stomach. She refused to be like Hamlet, anger would not inhabit her heart.

Still bubbling with energy, Alice pushed back her chair and stood up. She grabbed a thin palette, thumb inserted through the hole. The blonde sauntered toward the tall easel, a blank canvas laid on its rack. Gathering tubes of acrylics, setting up all the materials, Alice was ready to turn the empty slate into a cinematic image. Painting could sooth the young girl's worries, keeping her mind preoccupied.

A brush in her hand, Alice sat on a stool and began mixing colors together. Cerulean blue and chestnut brown made an olive sort of green, a shade that Alice admired for its unique hue. Gentle strokes against the white paper, tiny dabs combining to form an image. Elliptical swirls, the sharp contours of shapes, abstract and precise, as contradictory as the thoughts that swam around in Alice's mind.

Fingers encircled the handle of the utensil, smooth movements, calculated grazes. Two friends at a campfire, indistinguishable silhouettes huddled near one another, in close proximity to a warm, tender nest of flames. Trapped inside a tower, probably for all of eternity, Alice envisioned scenarios that weren't likely to happen. Dreams and aspirations alone couldn't sustain a person forever. 

A knock on the concrete wall, Alice looked beyond the canvas, a smile overtaking her face when she saw Killian, standing by the window. The raven-haired man smirked at Alice, cerulean eyes glimmering with glee, he flashed the loving crooked grin that was reserved for the precious girl who had stolen his heart.

"Papa! I was starting to worry." Alice chirped happily.

Killian always made fervent oaths to free Alice from her stone prison, journeying off to faraway lands, constantly seeking a magic solution to the confining curse that bonded the blonde girl to the tower. Judging by the mangy sack in his hand, Killian had found something promising this time.

"There's no need to worry, Starfish. I'm here now." Killian reassured, trudging toward his daughter, "I have something in here that can smash this tower to pieces."

Pulling back the battered bag, Killian revealed a giant hooked staff. The handsome man wore a smug expression on his face, as if he genuinely trusted that this enchanted artifact could liberate Alice. _Hope_. The only sentiment that remained inside of Pandora's box, after misery, despair, and loneliness had flown out of the woman's chest. A Greek myth, or an inspirational anecdote.

Alice's face lit up. Prompted to placed the brush and pallet on top of the stool, she scampered around the painting. Alice sprinted toward the dark-haired man, eager to embrace him. Two hearts swelling up, father and daughter. Killian obliged, beaming with exuberant zeal, opening up his arms, ready to envelop the young girl in a paternal hug.

Before Killian was able to establish physical contact with his daughter, an invisible forced pummeled into him, pushing the blue-eyed man backward. A loud thud pulsated throughout the tower as he slammed against a wall, sliding down the surface. 

"Papa?" Alice was alarmed, staring down at her father's sprawled body on the floor.

"Ah!" Killian groaned, writhing and thrashing.

Hand pressed against the left side of his torso, a sinister green glow engulfed the area underneath Killian's fingers. He grunted with pain. Nails clawing at the fabric of his crimson tunic, teeth gritting, the raven-haired pirate hollered out, overwhelmed by a seething ache. 

As Alice stepped closer to Killian, worried about the man's condition, she flinched, being magnetically shoved back. Alice assessed her arm, a burning sensation seared along the blonde’s wrist. A strange red mark appeared on Alice's flesh, simmering down to become a black scribbled spiral, a blemish engraved across her pale skin.

"Oh!" Alice gasped, inspecting the sudden imprint that had developed on her arm, "What's happening?" 

"I-I don't know." Killian winced, a tremble in his voice.

Face crumpling, the man gripped at his chest, the place above the heart gleamed with an virescent shimmer. It was almost as if some energy field had been generated between Killian and his daughter, preventing them from being in near proximity of one another. After slipping out of Killian's hand, the hooked artifact now laid on the ground. He wondered if the mysterious object might be the source of the impeding witchcraft.

"But I do." Someone called out from beyond the shadows, a voice brimming with contempt.

A woman appeared from behind Alice, emerging out of the darkness. Orange, blonde, brown, unkempt tresses of raggedy hair dangled down, long curls that resembled thick cords of rope. Wearing dark, burgundy robes, she stepped into the light. a flame of scorn resided within her cruel, cobalt eyes. Mother Gothel, the witch responsible for Alice's damnation. 

The blonde girl spun around, confronted by the sudden apparition of the enchantress who had given birth to her. Alice knew the horrid tale, of how Mother Gothel disguised herself as a beautiful maiden and seduced Killian for the sole objective of reproducing a child. Regardless of the prefix in the woman's name, she was no mother to Alice.

"What did you do to me?" Killian struggled to speak.

"No less than you deserve." Mother Gothel sneered, "You're poisoned now, and it will corrupt your heart every time Alice draws near. You've both been marked."

"Please don't do this." Alice pleaded, "He's my father. He's a good man."

"Not good enough." Mother Gothel stated wryly, "Your father went on a little detour because there's more important things to him than his daughter. He fought a duel for his precious honor."

"You didn't come right back." Alice felt betrayed, pivoting back to Killian, "You promised me."

Killian had renounced his lifestyle as a conniving pirate, but some habits were hard to control. _Pride._ Thedownfall of all men. He often craved excitement, to uphold the memory of his former self. A doting and reliant father, the name of _Captain Hook_ was a part of his legacy, a moniker that must be protected. When an arrogant swashbuckler, Captain Ahab, challenged Killian to a duel, he saw no choice other than to comply.

With strands of grey hair, Killian felt the pangs of mortality, he was growing old. The myth of the notorious Captain Hook, ruthless commander of the Jolly Ranger, a majestic ship, a loyal crew of buccaneers and ruffians. Despite the atrocities that he had committed, Killian missed certain aspects of his old ways. _A shark can't change its fins_. A person couldn't be expected to not long for the past, especially since the endeavors of Killian's youth were full of glory and infamy.

"I only stopped for a moment. I swear." Killian confessed, "How did you do this to me?"

"I simply made sure the bullet was poisoned." Mother Gothel, "Your pride did the rest."

The bullet from Captain Ahab's pistol. The crushed piece of metal that Killian thought had just grazed him. The dark-haired man's face paled, bile creeping up to the back of his throat. The weight of poor decisions, Killian wasn't sure what hurt more, the poison coursing through his heart or the guilt crushing down on him. 

Young, naive eyes glanced between Mother Gothel and Killian, a little girl who didn't know what to do. Love would always outmatch disappointment, Alice had already forgiven her father. She shuffled nervously, paralyzed by fear and doubt. _Good triumphs over evil_. Alice replayed the mantra inside her head, a meaningless rumination, the idealistic notion that fate favored the righteous.

Mother Gothel waved her hands, summoning a fog of black smoke. The fumes swooshed around Killian, and within seconds, Alice's father was gone. As the haze dissipated, the blonde stared at the vacant floor, instead of the man's incapacitated body, only wooden planks remained. 

"Papa!" Alice cried out, reaching for a man who was no longer there. "Papa."

Tears clouded Alice's vision, hot droplets of salty water dripping down her cheeks. She couldn't breathe, heart throbbing against her breastbone. _Papa, where are you? Save me!_ Alice was lost, collapsing on her knees, begging and pleading. _Papa, please help!_ Screams and cries, all falling on deaf ears. The blonde's father had vanished without a trace. _Please, Papa, save me! Help me, Papa! Please! Help me!_ Alice wept, until the minutes turned to hours, watching the nights become days, the weeks accumulate into years.

During Alice's most desperate moments, when tears were not enough to mourn the banishment of her beloved father, she thought about Hamlet and his quest for revenge. _This too shall pass_. Alice shook her head, and kept waiting at the window sill, praying that a miracle could still reach her someday. Fortune benefits the resilient. Mother Gothel might have destroyed Alice's life, but the nefarious woman would never corrupt her soul. _Wrath_. Alice had seen Killian lose the battle against his own sin, hubris, the girl refused make the same mistakes as her father. Anger wasn't permitted inside of Alice's heart, the festering sickness that only defeated reprehensible enemies at the cost of the user's soul. 

* * *

Not a single cloud decorated the sky, the atmosphere looked as if it were a blue ceiling, a solid-colored dome that covered the entire city. The sun stood alone, illuminating the vast expansion, showering the atmosphere with amber rays of light and bright hues of gold. The current weather might seem pleasant and beautiful to most people, but a tinge of melancholy could be interpreted from the scene.

Laid down on top of the troll monument, Tilly stared up at the heavens. One. Two. Three. Four. The number of pills that she had consumed today, self-administering twice the amount of the assigned dose. The medication always fogged Tilly's mind, and while that was usually considered a hindrance, the pharmaceutical obstruction now felt like a welcomed reprieve.

Immersed in frivolous musings, Tilly wondered how lonely the cheerful sun must feel, eternally isolated from the enchanting moon. Only during the brief intervals of the twilight, was the blazing, yellow star able to witness a glimpse of her lunar companion. Binding allegiances to the day and the night separated the celestial bodies, hampering their desires to be with each other. What a tragic love story.

The imagined, romantic tale of the sun and the moon, written by the idle thoughts of Tilly's medically sedated mind, with a special thanks to her immeasurable amount of heartache. The blonde let out an exasperated sigh, acknowledging to herself that it would require more than four capsules of anti-psychotics to forget Ivy Belfrey.

"There you are." Tilly's second favorite voice spoke out to her, "I've been looking for you."

A lopsided grin, compassionate cerulean irises, Detective Rogers stood before Tilly, holding a bag in his hand, an oddly familiar sight. A faded memory flashed across the young woman's eyes. This had already occurred, during a different time, at another place, throughout the course of some previous life. Father and daughter, reunited once more.

"Have you?" Tilly looked at the man nervously, unable to meet his gaze, "I thought you wouldn't want anything to do with me, after what I did for Weaver."

"I get it. He's like a father figure to you." Detective Rogers had calmed down, his disposition was sympathetic and understanding, "You trusted him over a stranger. It's understandable." 

"Yeah, well, I thought he was good man. I felt like he gave a damn about me." Tilly played with her fingers sheepishly, "Now without that, what ties me to the world?"

"Well, I don't know if I have a tether to the world, but I do have this." Detective Rogers presented Tilly with the paper bag, placing it on top of the troll statue.

Propelled by an elated glee, Tilly scurried inside the package, discovering a small, wooden case. A checkered pattern adorned both sides, the box opened up to display a set of chess figurines. Obelisk. Alabaster. A large, genuine smile manifested itself across Tilly's face, her thumb toyed with one of the pieces, the white knight.

"I thought we could start a weekly game, a way to fill the time, now that I've found Eloise Gardener." Detective Rogers suggested, slouching against the stone landmark as he spoke, "You know, I thought finding her would be it. And, look, I'm relieved that she's free, it's just I don't feel- I don't know what to do next that will matter."

Detective Rogers looked at the blonde, his eyes sparkled with intent, beseeching the young woman to give him a new purpose. Tilly recognized the encompassing sentiment, the same shade of blue encircled the police officer's dark pupils, full of a similar despair, reflecting a mutual emotion. 

"That's the feeling!" Tilly muttered, as if she had diagnosed Detective Rogers and herself with a rare disease, "Not mattering to anyone. That's the coming-untied-from-the-world feeling." 

"It's not a good feeling." Detective Rogers remarked.

"No." Tilly released a wistful laugh, "But now, maybe we'll drift off the planet in the same direction."

During the passage of several minutes, Tilly and Detective Rogers just stared at each other, exchanging affectionate smiles and achieving some sort of profound consensus on the mysteries of life. Two transient drifters, meandering around Hyperion Heights, an otherworldly neighborhood, currently serving as an ethereal sanctuary for stray souls.

The beginning of a promise, when the chess case was unfolded as a mat and the figurines were arranged along its surface, the raven-haired man and Tilly chose their banner. Black or white, brunette and blonde, placed on opposing sides of the board. Adversaries. Brooding through cryptic metaphors, Tilly thought about the sun's torrid affair with the moon once more, and her viscous heart started to sink, riveted by an astronomical tragedy.


	66. Promises

Chapter 66

Promises

* * *

 

Polished walls of granite marble, floor border trimmings around an intricate structural design. The grandiose chambers had been furnished by darkness, sparsely illuminated by an enormous fireplace, flames roared and blazed. A few tall stands held lit candles, not bright enough to ward off the shadows that continued to engulf the mausoleum. Pillars hoisted up the ceiling, a long and vast room. An unbreakable silence served as the foreboding requiem for the dead.

In the middle of the crypt, laid a transparent coffin where the frigid body of a pure-hearted girl rested. Anastasia Tremaine, beloved daughter, died at the age of fourteen, the last breath of life was frozen within her. An allegedly benevolent curse that a witch had cast upon the brunette, condemning her to an eternal slumber, suspended animation, forever young. Anastasia, adored and venerated by Drizella Tremaine. No matter how many years passed, the young woman couldn't forget her elder sister. 

A multitude of treasured memories hid beneath the confines of Drizella's mind, buried inside the farthest corners of her heart. _Anastasia? Where are you?_ Running through the forest, Drizella could not find Anastasia, trees surrounded her. Yellow sparkling lights. She spotted airborne rectangular bags floating across the night sky. Drizella ran to the levitating beacons. _I knew that lantern would guide you to_ _me_. Anastasia cooed, both warm arms engulfing Drizella. _I got so lost._ The little girl whimpered, gazing lovingly at Anastasia. _Don't worry, Drizella. I promise, your big sister will never leave you._ Anastasia's misguided vow. _We might have found each other, but now we're both lost_. Drizella's pragmatic worries. _Luckily, I know a way we can get back home. Take my hands_. The two brunettes clasped their hands together, Anastasia smiled. _Now, close your eyes and concentrate._ Summoned by the combined magic powers of Drizella and Anastasia, a trail of paper lanterns drifted upward, leading the path back to the Tremaine Manor. _As long as we're together, we'll always find a way back home_. Anastasia declared oaths that she intended to abide, but fate intervened, and Drizella's heart mourned the loss of the only person who had ever loved her.

Grief was a persistent pain, a burning ache that swelled around the chest cavity, right above the left breast. It throbbed and squirmed, nestling inside of a soul, attempting to build a permanent residence if its host allowed. Sorrow and woe, often swirled into the potent blend of bitterness. Anastasia's death had left a fissure across Drizella's heart, a gaping chasm, expanding and stretching, finally breaking apart after Alice's rejection. 

Unreciprocated feelings of love, Drizella became well-accustomed to the notion. Lady Tremaine had failed to be an affectionate mother, and to further aggravate matters, she wedged herself between Drizella and Ella, antagonizing both young women against each other. Regina Mills hardly managed to assume the role of a reliable mentor, another subpar maternal figure. For the final wound, Alice Jones, the knife that impaled Drizella through the chest, a twisting blade, piercing into the brunette's flesh, a gut-wrenching injury, unable to heal. Perhaps Alice aspired for more than Drizella's blackened heart, she couldn't blame the blonde heroine. Maybe the dark-haired sorceress was jaded beyond repair, too far engrossed as the villain of the story.

Inside this temple dedicated to Anastasia's remnants, Drizella found a sliver of peace. The slumbering girl looked so serene, hands folded over her stomach, lithe fingers tucked away. Drizella's treasured sister, her best friend. Brown, long locks of hair were combed to the side, framing a beautiful face. Anastasia, the sole person who had ever cared for Drizella. 

"You said you'd never leave me." Drizella's voice echoed throughout the windowless quarters, "And for a while, I wished that was true."

The brunette circled the small casket, as if she were a forlorn cat, eager to cuddle around her owner. Drizella hesitated to touch Anastasia, fearing how lifeless and cold the young girl's skin must feel, unwilling to accept that her elder sister was truly dead. Speaking to Anastasia's comatose body, Drizella sought out some form of relief.

"Every year you've laid in this box, I suffered under your shadow. I want Mother to feel the pain that I endured." Drizella confessed, "Only I'm not strong enough to cast this curse. Perhaps the answer lies within you."

A monologue anointed to a ghost, Drizella was overwhelmed by a need for comfort. She reached out and commandeered Anastasia's hands. Freezing and limp, her sister's flesh felt artificial. Drizella's auburn eyes glistened with a sheen of moisture, she stifled back the unshed tears. 

"Well, isn't this familiar?" The unmistakable sound of Regina's voice resonated across the burial chambers.

Spinning around, Drizella's facial features instantly hardened, nostrils flaring up in anger. She spotted Regina, the formidable sorceress approached her. Young, auburn eyes glaring into experienced, black irises. Scowling, the brunette stepped away from her sister's sarcophagus.

It was strange, for Regina to be sauntering into Anastasia's resting place, the insolence felt sacrilegious, an insult to the young girl's memory. Drizella hadn't expected to see her former teacher again, let alone be forced to confront the woman in front of Anastasia's enchanted cadaver.

"Head full of steam." Regina reprimanded, her shoes clinking against the smooth floor, "A curse built on vengeance-"

"And a nosy witch thinking she can change my mind." Drizella had grown tired of Regina's mind games.

"You know, you once trusted me to teach you about magic." Regina tried to appeal to Drizella, "Give up on this curse, and I'll find a way to help you."

What a futile gesture, Regina probably felt the need to assuage her guilt. _Too little, too late_. Drizella seethed with rage. Jerking up an arm, the brunette curled her fingers to cast a magical chokehold on Regina. The sudden attack caught the older sorceress off-guard, and for once in her life, Drizella had the upper hand.

"I don't need your help." Drizella sneered, "I don't need anyone." 

A blatant lie that Drizella had to believe in, she didn't need companionship. _I don't have anyone_. Love and friendship, flippant concepts, meant for romantic poets. _I-I love you_. The unanswered words reverberated inside of Drizella's skull, a painful reminder that she would never expose her heart again.

Levitated from off the ground, Regina's feet dangled, toes brushing against the floor as she floated in the air. Drizella's fingers were clutching, her magic coiled around the raven-haired woman's neck, an invisible force squeezing tightly, suffocating and overbearing, determined to compete with Regina's stamina.

Face contorting into an amused grin, from ear to ear, Regina started to cackle, breaking free of Drizella's bewitching grasp. A basic chameleon spell, the image of Regina dissipated, fading to reveal Mother Gothel, the great and sinister witch, the woman who had imprisoned Lady Tremaine in a tower, back when Drizella's mother was an uncorrupted young wife, simply known as Rapunzel. 

" _Gothel_." Drizella murmured the name, stunned by the woman's unprecedented arrival, "What are you doing here?"

"Testing your commitment." Mother Gothel divulged, strolling toward the casket, "And I must say, child, I'm impressed."

"I don't care what you think." Drizella spat. 

Dragging her robes across the floor, the infamous witch maneuvered around Anastasia's coffin, stopping near the motionless girl's head. Multicolored strands of haggard tresses, Mother Gothel smirked, a glint of malice glossed over her cobalt irises. 

"You should. The curse you seek requires more magic than you can conjure alone." Mother Gothel explained her proposal, "There's great power in family, but nothing left to glean from yours."

 _Family_. The concept had alluded Drizella for so long, ever since Anastasia's death, the Tremaine Manor ceased to be home, its inhabitants drifted apart, becoming strangers to themselves and to each other. Marcus. Rapunzel. Ella. One way or another, all three were permanently gone from Drizella's life. She was inarguably alone.

The foolish dream crawled its way from where it had been buried by Drizella, the idea that Alice could be her new family. _I-I love you_. The sentimentality felt like acid, corroding the back of Drizella's throat, fragments of quixotic musings that she couldn't keep at bay. Alice's razor-sharp talons were still latched into Drizella's heart.

"My circle of sisters has the most powerful magic in this realm." Mother Gothel propagate her offer, conjuring a coin into Drizella's hand, "Join us or suffer your failures alone. The choice is yours."

With a snap of her fingers, a black smoke engulfed Mother Gothel, a dramatic manner for departure. Drizella scoffed to herself, watching the woman disappear amidst a haze of fumes. How theatrical, most witches tended to overuse that simple parlor trick.

Glaring upon her palm, Drizella inspected the circular trinket of metal. _The choice is yours_. A fallacious and apocryphal claim, Drizella's choice had been given to Alice, bestowed to the charming blonde, with the instructions to deliberate the decision for twenty-four hours, and the verdict was less than ideal.   

If the stories were true, Mother Gothel also wanted to extract revenge on Lady Tremaine. The two women had been waging a war between each other for years, Rapunzel, the righteous maiden who defeated the wicked witch, Mother Gothel. When enough time passes, the saint becomes the sinner.

The enemy of an enemy may not be a loyal friend, but Drizella's options were limited. Fingers clasping around the coin, a resigned smile decorated the brunette's face. _My circle of sisters has the most powerful magic in this realm_. A final glimpse at Anastasia's immobile form, how Drizella wished that she could see her sister's amber eyes one last time. _Join us or suffer your failures alone. The choice is yours_. With reinvigorated conviction, the young sorceress knew that her choice was made. _I-I love you_. The jilted, tender whisper had sealed Drizella Tremaine's fate.

* * *

A heaviness resting upon the shoulders. Pulse quickening, a soft throbbing, pronounced over the left wrist. A bundle of veins that were rushing blood throughout the body, a poor effort at soothing the surge of panic. Heart against a breastbone, lungs unable to convert breaths into oxygen. The symptoms of feeling trapped, an immovable pressure on the chest. Ambushed and cornered, a stalemate.

The police officer led the way, guiding a young woman to the interrogation room. Ivy Belfrey, holding her head up high as she walked through the facility. A buzzing sound indicated that the door had been opened. Ivy entered the confined space, a smug expression adorned her face. To the world, the scene unfolding was endearing, a daughter visiting her incarcerated mother. In actuality, two polarizing individuals were racing toward a head-on collision.

Dressed in an orange jumpsuit, Victoria Belfrey, accessorized with a pair of markings around her wrists, the imprints of tightened handcuffs. How the mighty have fallen. The short-haired woman sat at the center of the room, slouching over a table, still as regal and defiant as ever. She had dark circles around her eyes, the predictable byproduct of stress and a severe lack of sleep.

"Hmm. Orange looks better on the women on that Netflix show." Ivy quipped, standing by the doorway, scrutinizing her hands.

A coolly inserted reference to _Orange Is The New Black_ , a show that Ivy had viewed alongside Tilly, huddled on top of the brunette's couch, wrapped in a blanket, isolated from the rest of the world. Pizza. Tickles. Warmth. Two normal girls, enjoying what could be considered a traditional date.

Nails tracing circular patterns across Ivy's lower ribs. The feeling of Tilly's fingers trailing along the knobs of her spine. Caresses bestowed upon sensitive landscapes of skin. The recollections gave Ivy strength and patience, but she would never let anyone perceive that unacceptable dab of vulnerability.

"My wardrobe has much in common with you, as my daughter." Victoria retorted, her voice drawing Ivy's undivided attention, "In both cases, I'm stuck with what was thrust upon me. Why are you here, Ivy?"

"No, you're right. That's enough small talk." Ivy spoke dismissively, sitting down on the empty chair in front of Victoria, "You have hidden something away from me. A family heirloom, if you will."

"You want Anastasia's body?" Victoria asked dryly.

"Then I can do what you never could." Ivy paused for effect, "Wake my sister up."

"No." Victoria sighed, "You want the magic within her. And once you get it, we both know what you plan to do with her."

"You know, I learned negotiating from you. I have control of all of your assets now." Ivy persisted, "You have no money, no lawyer, no Chanel. Sharing Anastasia's whereabouts is the only way you can get out of here."

"I don't need you to get me out of here." Victoria's confidence didn't waver.

"Fine." Ivy huffed, "I'll find her myself. I have Gothel helping me now."

"I bet you do." Victoria mocked, "You always did gravitate toward any mother figure you could."

"And you always gravitated to the love of only one daughter." Ivy barked.

"Aw." Victoria teased cruelly, "Did someone not get enough hugs?"

"Have fun in prison." Ivy groused, giving her mother a fierce glare, unable to mask the agony that she felt. 

"This isn't the first time someone's tried to lock me up. Apparently, you've forgotten the lesson they learned." Victoria smirked, "When it comes to my family, I always find a way."

Heart thrashing around inside her chest, Ivy endured the blunt of Victoria's asinine remarks, exiting the interrogation room with a barely semblance of dignity. She was too old to sulk, but as her high-heeled boots scraped against the linoleum floor, Ivy had never felt so utterly defeated. _When it comes to my family, I always find a way_. Her mother's voice sizzled, an unrelenting demon that wouldn't cease to assault Ivy. Tears shimmered over the brunette's eyes, both hands clenched, nails digging into the flesh of her palms. 

It only took a few of Victoria's callous comments to reduce the young woman into a pile of insecure rubbish. Tilly, an entire day without seeing the blonde, Ivy's tolerance was depleted, she had been battered and bruised. Ivy needed a recharge, to gaze upon a set of welcoming cerulean irises, and feel loved, be at home, nestled against Tilly's arms. 

Not yet, she must find Anastasia's body first. The residual magic streaming through the girl's catatonic corpse should be enough to grant every single one of Ivy's desires. _The woods are lovely, dark and deep_. For a fleeting moment, Anastasia's ghost haunted her younger sibling, the poems that she used to read Drizella, two sisters cuddled beneath the bedsheets, a book laid open on the mattress. _But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep_. Anastasia's voice rung out. It might hurt, how harvesting the dregs of her elder sister's essence could allow Ivy to be with Tilly, but the undertaking was an equal transference of love. A sacrifice that had to be made, even if it splintered Ivy's heart into two incomplete shards.


	67. Pine Trees

Chapter 67

Pine Trees

* * *

 

Twinkling stars amidst an ocean of darkness, each glimmering speck represented a wish that never came true. The silence of the night was encompassing and sacred, a spell that only the a few creatures dared to disturb. The subdued chirping of crickets. The occasion hooting of owls. An ear-piercing howl emitted by a ravenous lone wolf. Noises that were difficult to hear from on top of a tall, isolated tower, stuck in the middle of a dense forest.

A makeshift calendar pinned against the wall, a piece of parchment, marked with tallies, a lonely girl's way of managing time. Alice counted the days, one by one, sunrises to sunsets. Her father hadn't visited in years, the curse on Killian's heart kept him at a distance from his beloved daughter. Hope was Alice's only faithful companion, alongside an assortment of toys and inanimate objects. She enjoyed talking to them, a childish habit. Solitude, deprived of human contact, Alice's sanity may have begun to decay, or her creativity might be starting to thrive, the prognosis depended on the observer's own perspective. 

Fifty-four scribbled lines. The corners of Alice's mouth quirked upward, morphing into a large smile. By her calculations, minus thirty-one, the numbers indicated that the twenty-third of February had arrived. Alice's seventeenth birthday, it was a milestone worth celebrating, in her father's traditional manner, with a cupcake, a candlestick, and a wish. Reciting the guest list, a stuffed bunny rabbit, a satin hat, a ragged doll, the pine trees, the iridescent stars.

Arranging her possessions on top of tiny stools, encircling a wooden table. Chamomile tea. Alice scurried around the one-room chamber, procuring a set of chinaware. Porcelain cups and a pot. Her father taught her how to be a good hostess, she shouldn't forfeit the proper mannerism of a lady. _Etiquette_. A young woman must always wear a gown to special occasions. Alice slipped an old pale blue and white dress over her head, ready for a self-catering party.

Approaching the window sill, Alice gazed at the sky, her cerulean irises shimmering with the reflection of the glittery stellar light. A soft breeze caressed the blonde's face, the gentle touch of an old friend. The wind was growing warmer, announcing the early onset of spring. _You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming_. She grabbed Killian's spyglass, bringing the cylinder up to her eye. She analyzed the alignments of the moon, the stars, and the planets.

"Good evening, Trees. And you, Stars! My, you're rather chatty tonight, aren't you?" Alice chimed cheerfully, "Do you know what the stars say today is, Mr. Hatter?"

Alice wasn't crazy. She knew that plants and stars couldn't speak, but losing herself in a fantasy seemed a lot less painful than accepting the harshness of reality. _Sanity and happiness are an impossible combination_. Seventeen years of being trapped inside the tower, and based on rationality, Alice would remain confined for all of eternity. Logic, the adversary of dreams. Alice preferred to live within an illusion, a prison of her own design.

 "Well, the Second Star to the Right is blinking to the north. Which can only mean one thing-" Alice closed the window frames, spinning around with a mischievous grin, "Today is my birthday!"

The golden-haired skipped along the chambers, full of sincere glee and genuine joy, discarding the spyglass in favor of a top hat. Optimism fueled her, a biochemical narcotic that she couldn't abstain from. Nobody really cared if Alice was miserable, so she might as well be happy. Moving the black accessory, fondly known as Mr. Hatter, to rest on the head of a rabbit plushie, Alice took a seat at the table. 

"A very happy birthday to you!" Alice sang, her voice dropping down a few octaves in pitch, "Who wants some cake?"

A bouquet of pink and white flowers, the decorative center piece. Tea had already been served to all her imaginary friends. Time for the main event. She stroked a match. A chocolate-coated cupcake, impaled with a candlestick. Alice ignited the wick, watching the solitary blaze flicker. She lifted the pastry up to her lips, two eyelids flutter close, and inhaled a deep breath.

A puff of air slipped out of Alice's mouth, extinguishing the miniscule flare. A repetitive request. _I wish to leave this tower_. Her heart's whimsical desire. Alice waited for a few seconds, naively expecting results. A yellowish glow upon her face, the crackling sound of the flames from the fireplace. Nothing happened. Releasing a resigned sigh, Alice opened her eyes.

"Well, maybe next year." Alice reassured her motionless companions.

As Alice planned to resume with the hollow festivities, a loud stomping interrupted her disconcerting ruminations. The floor planks trembled, the thumping incremented in volume. Alice yelped, startled and frightened. She stood up from the vibrating stool.

"Ah!" Alice screamed, legs stumbling around.

The chandeliers swayed with each tremor, the furniture jumped as the seismic activity transpired. Gasping, Alice paced across the room, unsure what to do. She heard a roar, the ceiling began to crack, the rooftop was ripped from off the tower. Alice collapsed onto the ground, staring at the snarling beast that had assaulted her steeple. A gust of fresh air entered, grazing against the blonde's flesh, inducing an epidemic of goosebumps to erupt along her skin.

"Who are you?" Alice asked, gazing into a pair of luminous eyes.

Holding onto the side of the stone belfry, an enormous fiend. A giant troll, the vicious animals that antagonized the heroes in fairytales. Alice still felt alarmed, but she couldn't stop admiring the night sky. The stratosphere, a velvet curtain of black, a wide expanse of depth and emotion, an unconstrained space. The behemoth must have read her thoughts, he lowered down his massive hand, urging Alice to climb aboard. The young woman smiled, graciously accepting the invitation.

Trusting the villain of fables, Alice would never judge a person by their past. Although trolls might be reputed as evil, this one was providing her with an invaluable gift. _Freedom_. Nestled against the palm of an ogre, Alice had never felt safer, so liberated. Everyone deserved a chance to prove themselves. A nefarious pirate became a devoted father. A monster turned into a savior. The curative power of redemption, Alice would never stop believing that light could exist even inside the murkiest of shadows.

* * *

Pine trees are large coniferous plants, growing up to be about a hundred feet tall, some of the universe's oldest living organisms. Inhabitants of cold climate, components of boreal forests. With thick and scaly bark, the branches are produced in regular whorls, very tight spirals that appear like a ring of pricks arising from the same point. The foliage, green sharp needles serve as the equivalent of normal trees, brown egg-sized cones substitute for tiny seeds. 

The scent of pine cones floated through the ambience, emitted from the tablet that hung on the vehicle’s rear-view mirror. The ornament was shaped to resemble an evergreen tree, its fragrance wafted across the enclosed space of Ivy's automobile. _We always seem to find our way back to each other._ Tilly's idea of a casual gift, her poignant words were intertwined with the distinct aroma of terpene, a sedative that kept Ivy's anger corralled, the promise of a simpler world.

True to her word, Victoria had recruited Detective Weaver as an ally, the conniving Rumpelstiltskin. An influential police officer, he used his connections to invalidate the kidnapping case against Victoria Belfrey. Within a few hours after Ivy's visit, the clever woman managed to barter for her freedom. Unscrupulous pacts between astute demons. Whatever deal she and Rumpelstiltskin made, the arrangements were conducted swiftly and effortlessly.  

Lady Tremaine and Rumpelstiltskin, an allegiance that could prove to be a formidable threat. Posted by the side of a desolate street, Ivy and Eloise had been following Detective Weaver's car for an inexplicably long interval of time, trailing behind the man. A horseless carriage, escorting Victoria from the police station to a mysterious destination. The final moves of the chess match, an intricate game of cat and mouse, where neither player knew what role each of them played.

The fear of losing the treacherous war against her mother, a consternation that seared across Ivy's chest. She had built a fragile house of cards with Tilly, a flourishing relationship that assuaged her doubts, but during moments of silence, Ivy's tormenting phantoms made a resurgence. The glare from the sun glimmered on her vehicle’s window, Detective Weaver and Victoria stepped out of his car, slithering into an unidentifiable establishment, a modern crypt of some sort. Anastasia's corpse. Ivy's stomach churned, this was what she wanted, and yet, a pang of grief struck her heart. 

"Why is it you people work all your little lives in locked rooms only to recreate nature's greatness?" Eloise examined the Royal Pine air freshener, regarding the emerald trinket with unwarranted disdain. 

"It's air freshener." Ivy replied, focusing back to the building where Detective Weaver and Victoria had entered.

"Your mother's entanglement with Rumpelstiltskin is going to prove meddlesome." Mother Gothel warned.

"She can team up with all seven dwarves for all I care." Ivy quipped, "If we follow her, she will lead us to Anastasia."

"It's a mistake to underestimate her." Mother Gothel offered another foreboding comment that Ivy clearly did not want to hear.

"Are you speaking from experience?" Ivy retorted, a petulant remark, "Because in mine, she always takes the wrong path. She made her choices, and now she'll have to deal with mine."

Stationed in front of where the enigmatic man had parked, two opposing pieces. Ivy's inconspicuous sedan, situated several meters away from Detective Weaver's own sleek automobile. Fingers coiling around the steering wheel firmly, an unyielding grip, Ivy's knuckles turned pale. She grinded her teeth. Impatient and reckless thoughts flashed across the young woman's mind, struggling to preserve her dwindling sense of composure. 

A cynicism derived from almost three decades of disappointment injected itself into Ivy's heart. A feeling that she couldn't dispel even when Tilly’s arms were wrapped around her. An awareness of Ivy's own actions, the countless crimes, the worries muzzled what little semblance of hope that Ivy was able to muster up. A small part of the young woman's soul continued to cling on to the belief that happy endings might not be only granted to those who kneel down.

Time began to tick away, Ivy tapped her foot near the acceleration pedal, eyes squinting against the luminosity of the day. Sweat beaded over the brunette's forehead, a combination of stress and guilt. She needed Anastasia's magic. This must come to an end. The duel of Victoria versus Ivy, a cruel woman berating her daughter, a strife that had already consumed a grand multitude of energy, spilled too many tears, and taken an immeasurable amount of time. Hooking four fingers and a thumb on the door handle, Ivy pushed forward, and walked outside. Disembarking, she was determined to finally confront Victoria Belfrey, the mother who couldn't control her anymore, and conclude the vendetta that no longer mattered.


	68. Benign Monsters

Chapter 68

Benign Monsters

* * *

 

It is possible to be surrounded by people and still feel alone. A proverbial belief. The concept might sound banal and petty, as if it were a trite phrase found inside a greeting card or the philosophical musings of someone who has everything but continues to long for more. The truth behind loneliness lies alongside a fundamental principle, an individual soul's simply yearns to find its one equivocal partner.

Robin Mills, sadness and melancholy often evaded her life. Growing up in Storybrooke, the fabricated town located by the shores of Maine, full of fairytale characters, a population of barely five thousand inhabitants, Robin's most displeasing sentiment was sheer boredom. An adorable little girl, armed with the elegance and wit of her mother, from a relatively wealthy family, she never experienced a grappling need for anything. Charming and intelligent, Robin made friends easily, she had an amicable demeanor, a sort of magnetic personality that people felt drawn to.

If Robin had to divulge a moment in time when she underwent some form of discomfort, then exactly a single memory came to mind. It was a haunting effigy, a sequence of images and emotions that were imprinted inside of Robin's head, as permanent and engraved as a scar. The years didn't seem to alleviate its lingering presence, Robin knew that she could never forget the incident.

Thrusted back into a recollection from when Robin's childhood, at age seven, tossing and turning on the mattress. Bedsheets drenched in sweat, she suffered through an awful dream. Frosted pine trees. A sudden shift. A brown-haired girl drowning inside a lake, amidst a bottomless pool of icy waters. Cold. Fear. Death. A suffocating feeling enveloped her lungs, Robin awoke with a jolt, gasped for air, clawing at the blankets. She yelled, and screamed, thrashing. Pupils modifying to tolerate the darkness, Robin felt Zelena's warm arms wrapped around her. _It's okay, Robin. It was just a nightmare._ Murmured promises, Zelena's words brought a bit of relief. _I love you, Robin_. A mother's love, a potent force. The young blonde returned the embrace, lithe fingers gripping to the front of Zelena's silk nightgown. 

Many years later, in an entirely different realm, as Robin sprinted through a forest of pine trees, the nightmare crept into the surface of her conscious thoughts. Robin felt as though she was at the precipice of some grand discovery, an epiphany that would explain why her heart always throbbed when the sun faded along the horizon. Insomniac. Robin hated to sleep, even if the foreboding dreams had ceased to plague her.

A roar bellowed from the distance, the rustling of nearby branches. Leaping over a fallen log, Robin ran across the meadow, chasing after a mysterious beast. Monsters no longer frightened her, Robin was the apex predator, never the cowering prey. Boots pressing against the ground, she spotted a small village. No doubt, the creature's next target. Robin rushed through the shabby buildings, hearing the clumsy steps of another girl trailing behind her. _Alice_. What a relentless young woman.

"Seriously?" Robin stopped in front of a tavern, turning around to face Alice, "How are you still with me? I ran track for three years."

"I once outran a Bandersnatch." Alice replied, panting and out of breath.

Appreciative green eyes scrutinized Alice from head to toe, truly taking the time to look at the golden-haired girl. Robin had no idea what a 'Bandersnatch' was, but Alice probably didn't know the meaning behind the phrase 'I ran track.' Dismal aptitude for verbal communication.  

"You're not hurting my friend." Alice challenged, "He really is a sweetheart. The gentlest of giants."

 _The gentlest of giants_. A comment that was the equivalent of 'the less blood thirstiest of sharks.' It didn't inspire much confidence in the creature's benevolence. Robin rolled her eyes so harshly that the notion of the them rolling off their sockets became a feasible possibility.

"Well I have to find him first." Robin explained, surveying the area, "I think he's close."

"Well, maybe someone in there has met him." Alice gestured toward the pub, "Then you'll see."

Walking through the weathered door of the tavern, Robin and Alice were rendered speechless. A horde of villagers had taken refuge inside the establishment. Women and children, huddled together at each corner. Indistinct conversations of whispered reassurances, babies crying and wailing. A multitude of people, using the bar as a sanctuary. 

An ominous silence fell on the premises. Most of the patrons turned their attention toward Robin and Alice, the two interlopers who had wandered into their meager shelter. The aftermath of a great ruination. How could Alice vehemently protect a monster, especially one capable of such atrocities?

"Oh, I think they've met him." Robin muttered to Alice. 

The men readied the weapons, blades sharpening, a vindictive desire for violence glimmered across their eyes. Crowds of brutes, gathering around the two strange girls who had just entered the canteen. A lynch mob. Robin felt apprehensive, she gripped her bow, maintaining a facade of calm composure.

A scruffy man, Clayton, self-appointed leader of the village, sauntered toward the two intrepid blondes. He gazed at Robin and Alice with utter contempt, probably not used to visitors. A hospitable welcome was unlikely to occur.

"If you've come seeking shelter, you'll find none here." Clayton declared, "A monster destroyed our homes."

"He's not a monster!" Alice groused, "Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"Because non-monsters don't flatten villages." Robin quipped.

"Smart girl." Clayton complimented Robin, in a patronizing tone, "I see you have a weapon. You can stay here and protect the women and children."

"Like hell, I will." Robin scoffed, "I'm going after him, same as you." 

"All right, everyone stop!" Alice blurted out.

"Alice, be quiet." Robin lowered her voice, trying to warn Alice.

"Okay, that troll that one you keep calling a monster, he's the only reason I'm free. He's my friend." Alice proclaimed, "And he'd never hurt anyone, unlike you."

Robin's eyes widened, shocked by the blonde's asinine comments. A ferocious fiend was terrorizing these people, destroying their humble houses, and devouring all the livestock. Propagating sympathy for benign monsters, Alice had no sense of self-preservation whatsoever. 

"You're a crazy girl." Clayton signaled his companions, "How about we put you back where you belong? Lock her up." 

Armed with swords and axes, several of Clayton's friends cluttered around Alice and Robin. Large, ravenous vultures, circling two pieces of rotten animal carcasses. At this point, any attempt to escape would be impossible to accomplish.

"What-" Alice yelped, a man creeping up from behind.

"And her friend too." Clayton referred to Robin.

"Whoa, whoa. Friend's a strong word." Robin explained, "I just met the girl."

Robin's excuses would not sway Clayton's onset of paranoia. He wasn't an understanding sort of man, his intelligence quotient might be average, at the very best. None of Robin's arguments were capable of changing Clayton's whimsical assumptions. She had to suffer the consequences of _her_ _friend's_ idiotic ramblings. 

A migraine already began pulsating through Robin's cranium, she permitted the burly men to escort her to a dungeon. She didn't have the energy required to rebel against the social constraints of a medieval patriarchy. Applying conventional logic, Robin calculated that it would be a lot safer to stealthily abscond from the prison than to provoke an impulsive skirmish. Robin was brave and temperamental, but not dumb.

To be perfectly honest, Robin solely blamed Alice for their current predicament. These villagers were justified in despising the troll that had been ravaging their town. Alice took being an advocate against animal abuse to uncharted boundaries. The humane treatment of trolls and dragons, a concept that sounded as ridiculous as most of Alice's histrionics. 

Mumbling and grunting to herself, Alice pouted like a petulant child, a glint of unyielding defiance still sparkled in those two azure eyes, glaring at their barbaric captors. Although the young woman displayed unhealthy behavioral traits, such as an altruistic empathy for pugnacious creatures, Robin had to admit, Alice was genuinely a valiant and brazen individual. 

Against all better judgment, Robin reached out and grabbed Alice's hand, interlacing their fingers together, and flashing the blonde a tender smile. Walking alongside one another, Alice returned Robin's gesture of camaraderie, innocently grinning at the green-eyed girl. _Her friend_. Inconceivably unstable, overly emotional, and exceedingly stubborn, Alice might not be an ideal partner, but right now, she was all that Robin had.

* * *

A pungent odor exuded from the narrow corridor, a long, inclined staircase, puddles of murky water on each step. Mold and grim decorated the concrete walls, humidity and heat, a problematic combination. Opening the metallic bar gate, a loud screech resonated through the circumscribed passageway. The clinking of high-heeled boots, a rhythmic sequence of echoes.

Ivy hated being in such a suffocating confined space, but Victoria and Detective Weaver had voyaged down through these catacombs. A memorial crypt of some kind, one of the many properties owned by Belfrey Developments, the company that Victoria no longer controlled. It made sense, for Anastasia's corpse to be hidden in a secluded chamber, protected and guarded, Victoria's most beloved treasure.

At a deliberately steady pace, Eloise trailed behind the brunette, sauntering though the ingress with a neutral expression. Eloise wasn't as naive and gullible as Ivy, she knew that Victoria Belfrey shouldn't be underestimated. The tenacious woman who had been a resourceful maiden in a former life, Victoria could always procure a spontaneous contingency plan.

Cobwebs, dangling spiders, a sinister place, the statue of an angel laid at the far end of the sloped hall. Ivy led the assault. Faint lighting, caused by invasive solar rays, seeping in through the entrance. Turning around a corner, Eloise and Ivy were disappointed with what they found awaiting them, maybe even a little bit disillusioned, but neither woman was remotely surprised.  

At the center of the sepulcher, in front of a wall amassing stone graves, Detective Weaver stood alone, both arms crossed, with smirk plastered across his face. A triumphant expression, the conniving man's dark eyes sparkled, wordlessly mocking the intruding women. Victoria Belfrey was nowhere to be found. Detective Weaver acted as if he had performed a wondrous magic trick.  _Now you see me, now you don't_. It became evident that the room had a secret exit. 

Outsmarted by her mother, Ivy tried to conceal the anger bubbling against her chest. Composure and poise, she couldn't allow these enemies to rattle her. Even if Victoria was always three moves ahead, Ivy still had control of Belfrey Developments, and the company's sizable monetary funds. Currency, the only consistent form of power, overvalued in every single universe. Ivy should be able to concoct a counteractive strategy. 

"Well, well, well." Detective Weaver chirped, "You certainly took your time."

"Where's Victoria?" Ivy inquired, even though she already knew the answer.

"Oh, your mother's long gone, princess." Detective Weaver teased, attempting to provoke Ivy, "Piece of advice. Next time you want to tail someone, learn how to do it better first."

"Come on." Ivy addressed Eloise, "Let's get out of here." 

"Run ahead, Drizella." Eloise overruled the brunette's suggestion, "Mother Gothel needs a moment."

"Fine." Ivy huffed curtly, "Talk until the sun sets if you want."

A fleeting grimace flickered across the young woman's face. Ivy felt excluded, but she conceded with Eloise's wishes. In a realm with limited amounts of magic, Ivy was forced to follow the older witch's commands. Stomping away, the raven-haired girl left, scampering through the dark passage, following the traces of light that showered down upon the sequestered crypt until she located the staircase.

Eloise shouldn't be trusted, but Ivy didn't have much of a choice. At least for now, the sinister woman's goals were aligned with her own. Hands coiling around the iron bars, Ivy pushed open the rusted gate. The sky made an appearance, sunlight cascading over the brunette, illuminating the celestial sea of blue, a large panoramic display of radiant ultramarine.

Cerulean, like Eloise's cold irises. Tilly wore the same shade, but with a livelier hue. Alice, the daughter that Mother Gothel abandoned in a tower, a belfry. What quaint wordplay, the curse must have a wicked sense of humor. An eye for an eye, one evil mother in place of another. Ivy chewed on her bottom lip as she battled the emotions that were running through her. Hypocrisy. Betrayal. Lies. None of these components could build a solid foundation to support a healthy relationship. 

Irony, Ivy was swearing allegiance to the witch that had eternally imprisoned Alice, in order to seek vengeance on the woman who had broken her heart. Alice, not Tilly. _If you came to me with a face I have not seen, I would still know you_. Ivy irrevocably loved Tilly, the present. Alice existed solely amongst the forgotten ghosts of the past, she held no place within Ivy's future. _Even if centuries separated us, I would still feel you_. These thoughts converged, fusing against one another, contradicting each other, until Ivy no longer remembered how to breath and her heart felt damaged beyond all hope for repair.


	69. Predators

Chapter 69

Predators

* * *

 

Some organisms thrive on the demise of another, less equipped living being. Survival of the fittest, the coessential theory hypothesized by well-accomplished scientists. A known fact, predators pursue the easiest prey. A basic aspect of nature, the biological interaction, the intrepid hunter selects a suitable victim. These aggressive creatures may not initially kill their target, but instead, choose to engage in a parasitic relationship where the host's life-force is eventually absorbed. 

For all intents and purposes, Mother Gothel was a predator, posted at the highest level of the ecosystem's hierarchy. She feasted on the dreams and fears of little girls, hopeless and broken souls that wandered into her malevolent snare. The witch collected young women, corrupting and distorting, making promises that she would never keep. A coven built from lies and deception, a trap disguised as a solemn pledge of sisterhood and camaraderie.

The ancient, tall trees towered over the forest, sprawling across the protruding roots. Their branches intertwined together, a rooftop of twisted vines and leaves, effectively blocking out any sun beams from intruding. A shroud of dim lighting encased the wilderness, only a few rebellious solar rays flickered into the sequestered meadow. The ideal setting for a meeting between two sorceresses.

Two cobalt eyes glimmered with satisfaction. Trudging through the swampy grounds, Drizella walked toward a hooded figure. Mother Gothel awaited her, a pompous expression adorned the woman's face. She knew that Drizella was unable to resist, a pathetic weakness had fermented itself inside of the young brunette's heart. Drizella craved affection, as if someone could ever love such a pitiful, damaged girl. 

"I see you've come to your senses." Mother Gothel stated smugly.

Overflowing with arrogance and haughtiness, Drizella pulled out the coin that Mother Gothel had given her. A piece of shiny brass, an odd symbol was engraved on its surface, some type of occult image. Drizella slammed the trinket against Mother Gothel's palm. Hubris, a sin that blinded its perpetrators.

"I've come to join your little supernatural sewing circle." Drizella quipped.

"It's not that simple." Mother Gothel divulged, leading Drizella deeper into the forest, "You're not the only witch with interest."

Drizella Tremaine, the newest addition to Mother Gothel's assemblage of misfit toys, or rather, incredibly gullible girls. Drizella sauntered toward the shaded clearing, where a gathering of aspiring witches has formed a circle. She stopped at an empty space, standing next to two other young women. A velvet cloak draped across both shoulders, Drizella held her head up high, proud and defiant. The raven-haired girl needed assistance, conjuring a curse required an immense amount of power, but she would never grovel for it.

"Now the last recruit has arrived, we can begin." Mother Gothel positioned herself in the middle of the crowd, "Each of you shows promise. But only two of you will get the honor of joining The Coven of the Eight."

Spinning around, gazing at each young woman, Mother Gothel loved to hear herself speak. Surrounded by a bunch of lonely, susceptible girls, the blue-eyed enchantress felt powerful.  _The Coven of the Eight_. A cult of witches, an elusive sorority, Mother Gothel was proposing an initiation ritual, a challenging trial. Lines and arches were drawn across the ground, the same markings found on the coin that the woman had bestowed upon Drizella. Scribbles of dirt, the nefarious stamp of Mother Gothel's approval.

"I've hidden two golden flowers in the woods beyond the river. Whoever returns with these mystical plants will show themselves worthy." Mother Gothel explained, "You'll each work alone. You'll have to be savvy and cutthroat." 

"Well, so much for sisterhood." Drizella scoffed, interrupting Mother Gothel's ramblings. 

"Sisterhood is a prize not easily won." Mother Gothel gave Drizella an intense glare, "Happy hunting." 

Fingers snapping, Mother Gothel summoned a cloud of black fumes. The bewitching smoke engulfed the woman, and as expected, when the haze cleared out, she was gone. Unoriginal and repetitive, Mother Gothel thought that vanishing within a puff of gases could somehow still impress Drizella.

After Mother Gothel's lame disappearing trick, the young women began to scatter out in opposite directions. Each of them had a clear objective. _A golden flower, to the woods, beyond the river_. Drizella decided to head toward the shaded areas, remembering Alice's lessons on foraging for magical plants and fungi. _Target places with dim lighting and high humidity_. As Alice's voice lingered inside of her mind, Drizella developed a dull ache across her chest.

"Gothel can be a bag of wind sometimes." One of the young sorceress approached Drizella, a familiar gleam of mischief twinkled in her eyes, "I liked seeing you put her in her place." 

A moderately attractive girl. Yellow curls, a playful demeanor, and a friendly disposition, Drizella had already fallen for someone with these same intriguing characteristics. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Drizella wasn't going to repeat her mistakes, she didn't have much of a heart left.

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed the show." Drizella replied dismissively.

"Hang on, one second." The blonde reached out for Drizella's hand.

Before the audacious girl's fingers could latch onto her wrist, Drizella shuffled to the side and tackled the blonde. Picking up a long, pointy twig from the ground, Drizella pinned the other young woman against a tree. The last time that Drizella allowed someone to touch her, the consequences were devastating. 

"I knew you were the strong one." The golden-haired sorceress smiled.

"What's your point?" Drizella kept the sharp branch directed at the young woman's neck.

"Alone out here, we're just gonna get lost. But together, we can find these things." The blonde tried to appeal to Drizella, "We can both win this."

Logic and rationality didn't often motivate Drizella, she preferred to succumb to extreme feelings of love and hate. _No one can despise you more than someone who used to adore you_. Glaring into the young woman's eyes, Drizella dropped the twig, lowering her guard. She accepted the blonde's proposal, it was purely a strategic move. Drizella wouldn't develop any kind of attachment to her new companion. Emotions were merely weakening hindrances.

"I'm glad I didn't run you through with that stick." Drizella stated, permitting the other girl to walk alongside her.

Taking a moment to assess the blonde's appearance, Drizella concluded that the inexperienced witch didn't actually look anything Alice. Darker hue of blonde, a taller, towering stature, mostly resembling a giraffe. Instead of cerulean hoops around wide, intuitive pupils, the young woman had a pair of observant, green irises. Her amicable smile paled in comparison to Alice's charming lopsided grin.

A few taupe blemishes made an adorable trail along Alice's jawline, Drizella remembered kissing each birthmark. The raven-haired girl's fingertips tracing patterns across Alice's firm, muscular abdomen, three faint scars adorning her smooth skin, the residual markings of lacerations attained by protecting Drizella from a ferocious wolf. _For you. I would have died for you_. Alice's altruism knew no bounds, courageous, selfless, kind, the blonde shined far too brightly to be content with living amidst the shadows. _I don't think that cursing everyone in this realm is going to fill the hole in your heart_. But I'd give anything to help you. Sentimentality and remorse mixed together, accompanied by a tinge of arousal, transforming into an unyielding pain that simmered inside of Drizella's stomach.

Flooded with a torrential current of recollections. Gentle caresses and purposeful strokes, administered on the most intimate parts of Drizella's body. Writhing and squirming under Alice, marooned amongst a sea of crumpled bedsheets. Moans and whimpers, composing an ardent symphony of passion. It had been enough to render Drizella speechless, how pliable and supple Alice's lips felt when pressing against the brunette's own.

Drizella could recite every single one of Alice’s intoxicating features, for minutes and hours, from dawn to dusk, until the weeks became months that slowly accumulated into years. Alice's memory was unrelenting, the warmth of the blue-eyed blonde's hands had been seared across Drizella's flesh, imprinted into each fragmented piece of the brunette's heart. Perhaps Drizella would be able to forget Alice and the phantom touches that haunted her, but not right now. If time truly healed all wounds, maybe Drizella needed several decades to cauterize the fissures that continued to tear her soul at the seams.

* * *

Four white walls composed the recuperative chambers, the cabinets had been painted a shade of grey, to offer a subtle contrast. A bunch of wires were plugged to complex machines and sophisticated devices. Beep. Beep. Beep. The steady chiming of a heart monitor. The spikes of green luminous lines, zigzagging markings that indicated the faint presence of a pulse. A thin tube was connected to a brown-haired girl's arm, injecting her body with fluids and vitamins.

The slow rising and falling of the young patient's chest, her head was cushioned on top of a soft pillow. What had been interpreted as a sleeping enchantment by the natural laws of one realm, manifested itself as a mysterious coma within the limiting confines of a non-magical world. Laid across the gurney, the brunette remained frozen, stuck inside an ageless slumber, an eternal state of unconsciousness where her final breath stayed lodged against two lungs.

A foreboding thought had crossed Ivy's mind as she boarded her sedan. While Eloise and Detective Weaver were conducting their secret meeting, Ivy began to list all the places where Victoria could have stored Anastasia's undead corpse. Hidden in plain sight. A brazen technique that Victoria was arrogant enough to implement. Hyperion Heights General Hospital. Three minutes. The time that the receptionist took to inform Ivy about her younger sister. A patient named 'Anastasia Belfrey' resided within the medical facility. 

Fortune favors the bold. Fear gripped Ivy's chest, acid crawled up her throat. She strolled across the corridors and hallways, dodging doctors and nurses. The heart of a true believer. _Lucy Mills_. The child who exhibited an unwavering faith in dreams and fairytales. The little girl's life would be the price paid for Anastasia's resuscitation, the culmination of Victoria's cruelty.

Through a clear window, behind a thin barrier, Ivy could glimpse into the hospital room, eyes fixated on the tattered remnants of her family. Back facing the doorway, unaware that Ivy was watching, Victoria stood near the edge of Anastasia's bed, gazing lovingly at the only daughter that she had ever cared for. Ivy's stomach churned, her heart started pounding erratically, unhinged and inconsolable. Anastasia, her mother's coveted prize. Erect and regal, leaning over the young girl's body, Victoria pulled out a small dropper. 

The equivalent of witch's vial, Victoria held the tiny apparatus between her fingers, giving its rubber nub a squeeze, and releasing a droplet of transparent fluid onto Anastasia's forehead. The results were instant, color spread across the catatonic brunette's skin, she inhaled a breath of fresh air. Eyelids fluttered open with a loud gasp, revealing a golden hue of amber. Anastasia Tremaine, a triumphant return to the land of the living.

"Mother?" Anastasia croaked, disoriented and confused, "What what happened?"

A pair of hazel irises tried to adjust to fluorescent lights. Anastasia squinted, analyzing her bizarre surroundings. Cold. Fear. Numbness. The last sensations that she recalled. Snow. Ice. Water. Fleeting images flashed across her mind. The woman in front of Anastasia, an older version of her mother, wore strange fabrics and cloths, a black robe of some sort. Anastasia's head throbbed, unable to process the resurgence of so many emotions and stimuli, she felt utterly overwhelmed.

A relieved chuckle spilled out from Victoria's lips, she sat on top of her daughter's mattress. The charade of Victoria Belfrey came to an abrupt end, her expression shifted, and she transformed into Rapunzel Tremaine, the gallant woman who would do anything for her daughter, Anastasia. A spell had been broken.

"I saved you. Oh, my sweet Anastasia, I saved you!" Victoria gushed, "When it comes to my family, I always find a way."  

Brimming with joy, Victoria threw both arms around Anastasia's, burying her face into the nape of the brown-haired girl's neck. The climatic reunion between a mother and a child, a love that went beyond the fundamental principles of nature, escaping the clutches of death itself. Victoria had fulfilled a fervent vow, even at the cost of shattering the heart of her youngest daughter.

The pads of Ivy's trembling fingertips grazed the frigid sheet of glass that separated her from Anastasia and Victoria. The physical divider wasn't as wide and obstructive as the emotional chasm that lied between them. Ivy spun around, walking away from the saccharine scene unfolding before her. Eyes glossed over by tears that threatened to fall. Anastasia and Victoria were no longer her family, that much had become clear.

How should Ivy ever hope to be loved by anyone if she was loathed by her own mother? A harsh sob erupted from out of the brunette's mouth. She limped toward the facility's exit, carrying a soul that had been wounded, leaving a trail of blood behind her. Pain ripped through Ivy's chest, the possibility of Tilly not reciprocating her feelings, it would be much more devastating than whatever retaliation that an enemy could concoct.

Ivy combed a hand through her short, raven curls. She pulled apart the tangles as insecurities ran rampant across her mind. Ivy must have faith in her relationship with Tilly, she shouldn't crumble under the pressure of Victoria's neglect. Ivy would never be a pitiful child again, she refused crave for her mother's fickle affections. Maybe Ivy only had Tilly, but she certainly didn't need anything else.


	70. Conditions

Chapter 70

Conditions

* * *

 

Unconditional love is a wondrous commodity, as caring and nurturing as a gentle stream, but as rare and scarce as an oasis stranded in the middle of a desert. Not everyone can propagate such a selfless form of affection. This brand of altruism has been viewed as a heroic and noble characteristic, to love without bounds, even if the feelings are unrequited. The majority of people place intangible limits and unspoken restrictions on their own capacity for compassion and empathy. 

The rambunctious thuds of hooves stomping onto the ground, two large horses struggling to pull a battered carriage through a dense and sinister forest. Tall, identical trees surrounded the unwinding trail, episodic flares of static electricity lit up the dark skies, illuminating the grey thick clouds that cluttered the stratosphere. Neither the moon nor the stars could make an appearance, not in the presence of this raging storm.

A loud crash, thunder echoed at the distance. The wind thrashed violently against the branches, blowing off leaves and stems. The enormous quadruple steeds galloped, muscular legs punching into the gravel. A sudden tug on the reins, the stallions heeded the commands of their master, the hooded figure sitting at the front bench of the wagon. Wooden wheels came to a complete stop, the medieval mode of transport halted.

Pushing the cloak back, the courageous driver, a beautiful golden-haired woman, she glanced into the passenger cart. Her husband, a hardworking tailor, laid on his back, incapacitated and fatigued. Rapunzel and Marcus Tremaine, a loving married couple, traveling across the woods with their two young daughters, Anastasia and Drizella. 

"Why'd you stop, Rapunzel?" Marcus coughed, straining his body to move, trying to look at his wife.

"Because I found our family something to eat." Rapunzel replied, a lantern in her hand.

Lost in the unforgiving wilderness, starving and thirsty, Rapunzel knew that her family wouldn't last long, not unless she took action. Food. Water. Shelter. Time was running out. A secret garden, hidden behind the bushes. Rapunzel hoped to find some provisions there.

"I'm sorry the burden falls to you to look after us all." Marcus apologized.

"You're a brilliant tailor, Marcus." Rapunzel reassured her husband, "Once I mend you, you'll stitch together the life we've always dreamed of our family."

Marcus tried to offer his wife a smile, but he felt far too weak. Sweat beaded on the raven-haired man's forehead. A little girl sat by his side, worried about the well-being of her beloved father. Another brunette was seated near her mother. Three people, all depending on Rapunzel, six brown eyes, gazing up into a single pair of cobalt irises.

With an unyielding resolve, Rapunzel ventured into Mother Gothel's patch of vegetables. _Are you sure it's safe to go in there, Mama?_ Her daughters worried, their voices quivered. _The lanterns will connect us. You'll see mine in there, and yours will guide me back to you here_. The rumbling sound of thunder. Rapunzel plucked edible root plants from the fertile earth. _Remember for my family, I'll always find a way_. A flash of lightning, Mother Gothel stood before Rapunzel, towering over the frightened woman.

Kneeling on the floor, Rapunzel Tremaine hadn't hesitated to steal a bunch of radishes from a witch's harvest to feed her family. _If your family is your be all and end all, what would you sacrifice to give them a better life?_ Mother Gothel, the enchanting sorceress made promises that so sounded enticing to a woman whose husband and daughters were starving. _I would do anything_. Rapunzel's fate was sealed.  _We have a deal_. A pact with a devil, engulfed by darkness, an all-encompassing smoke, Rapunzel found herself trapped inside a belfry, a cylindrical pillar of stones and cement.

Hours trickled down, days became years, Rapunzel remained imprisoned within a magical citadel, separated from Marcus, Anastasia, and Drizella. She traded freedom in exchange for her family's safety. Rapunzel, the selfless maiden, long, golden tresses and sapphire irises, a myth that spread through whispers between patrons at taverns. Her sacrifice turned into an unfathomable legend, a romantic fairytale that parents told their children. Unable to pass the daunting trials of time, Rapunzel, the altruistic heroine who would be later known as a despicable villain, Lady Tremaine, the irrefutable proof that anyone could become susceptible to corruption, as long as enough pressure was applied.

* * *

Several minutes after midnight, no one was wandering around the sleeping city of Seattle. Shadows shrouded the empty streets of Hyperion Heights, wedged in the space between lamp posts. The flickering bulbs glimmered, illuminating the sidewalk, casting white glow onto the cement surfaces. It would require something far more potent than weak incandescent lights to chase away the darkness residing within some souls. 

The troll monument under the Aurora Bridge looked rather terrifying beneath the black, starry sky. A single visible eye, its gigantic hand grasping a car, the creases of its face were accentuated, emphasizing the physical features on the solid effigy of the grotesque creature. One of Tilly's favorite places, hidden away from the rest of the world, isolated and serene. It didn't make much sense, how the monolithic sculpture of a beast could actually provide Tilly with peace, but maybe that was what Ivy loved the most about her, the unpredictability, the conundrum behind the inner workings of the golden-haired girl's puzzling mind.

Mesmerized in a trance, Ivy just stood there, lost amongst disconcerting thoughts until staring at the petrified figure became too for her to handle. Ivy had met enough real monsters throughout the course of her lifetime, she didn't want to gaze upon the erect statue of a fictional ogre. Auburn eyes roamed around the vicinity, noticing the colorful exposition of graffiti mounted on the side of a nearby building.

A chilly breeze blew against Ivy's face, beckoning her to walk toward the illustrated wall, a request that she eagerly obliged. The swirls of purple, yellow, green, the lettering that read 'Welcome to Hyperion Heights' using a mixture of different fonts. Ivy's fingertips absentmindedly traced the borders of the images, drifting across the silly caricatures, the elaborate brushes of spray paint, she just knew that Tilly had created this incongruous art piece. Ivy could recognize the blonde's hand-strokes, the unique way in which the lines curled and twisted. 

A shiver went down Ivy's spine, she shoved both hands into the pockets of her black coat. Ivy felt colder than ever before, but she doubted that the quivering sensation was related to the drop in atmospheric temperature. _Where are you, Tilly?_ The hammering against the ribs, something moving through Ivy's blood, a rush of adrenaline, pumping too quickly through her heart, making both legs heavy and sluggish. _Love is weakness_. She wanted Tilly too much.

Ivy's lungs squeezed and contracted, attempting to oxygenate her body. She lowered her head down and tried not to cry. A futile effort, hot, scorching tears pushed at the corners of the brunette's eyes, and she couldn't even manage to hold back audible sobs. _Love is pain_. An ache against the left section of the chest, Ivy sagged against the vandalized edifice, before she stumbled and fell down on her knees. Neither foot was able to anchor Ivy to the ground, the high heels of her shoes refused to cooperate.

Resigned to slumping on the floor, Ivy leaned back against the concrete wall, pressing a hand to her stomach. _I saved you. Oh, my sweet Anastasia, I saved you! When it comes to my family, I always find a way_. Anastasia and Victoria, she replayed the events in her head. Ivy swallowed hard, and forced herself to keep breathing. Anastasia may be alive, but she was at the mercy of Victoria's manipulations. Ivy felt as if she had lost her sister once more. 

Wrapping both arms around bended legs, Ivy coiled up into a pitiful ball of converging limbs. Face burrowed against the cushion formed by her thighs, she adjusted to a fetal position, reverting to the child who continued to yearn for a mother. Fingers clenching, eyelids shutting close, Ivy Belfrey cried, by the curb of a rarely visited road. The crescent moon was the only witness, observing from up above, a quiet and calming companion. 

Childhood memories swarm into the hollow crevices of Ivy's thoughts, the gaps that she left unprotected. Draining the magic out of her sister's empty vessel would have been an easy endeavor. Stealing the blessed gift from Anastasia as her two hazel irises bore a hole into Ivy's heart was going to be a harrowing ordeal. A wave of shame washed across Ivy, the young woman began to drown within the feelings of regret over transgressions that she hadn't committed yet. Remorse constrained her throat, suffocating and smothering. 

Sitting on the ground, the pavements felt rough and coarse against Ivy's skin, the short skirt doing very little to cover the bottom portion of her thighs. She shivered, teeth rattling as tears subsided. The ambience molded to personify the essence of loneliness. Ivy was wallowing in a pool of frivolous guilt, unwilling to change her path, but reluctant to resume heading toward its current destination. _Alea iacta est, the die is cast_. She had traveled beyond the point of no return, the midway mark between damnation and redemption.

A faint rustling sound, despite the intemperate silence, Ivy failed to hear the tentative footsteps approaching. A hand settled against her shoulder, warm and soft. Fingers squeezing the junction between the arm and the collarbone, urging the brunette to look up. Ivy complied, lifting her head, and encountering two cerulean irises, brimming with compassion and concern. 

"Ivy?" Tilly whispered, as if the raven-haired girl's name were an incantation that she dared not utter.

Consternation was evidently written across Tilly's face, after all these years, Ivy could read her expressions. Facial gestures that spoke the same language as Alice's ghost did, the lingering residue of the only person who ever believed in Drizella. This blonde now held unequivocal admiration for her, and instead of comfort, the fact brought Ivy a great amount of distress. She felt worthy of Tilly's love.

The outer rims of Ivy's eyes were puffy and swollen, retinas filled with tiny webs of red veins. She didn't know how to explain what was wrong, the words stayed lodge against her throat. A pathetic whimper escaped from Ivy's slightly opened lips, a raspy noise that prompted Tilly to bow forward and encircle her arms around the raven-haired girl's shuddering frame.

The feeling of Tilly hand against Ivy's back, her fingers were massaging soothing circles around the pale flesh just below the brunette's neck. It was a kind of instinctive affection that Tilly offered so freely, without conditions or restraints. Ivy returned the embrace, latching her hands on the taller girl's waist, clutching the red flannel shirt that acted like Tilly's second set of skin. Ivy buried her face into a nest of golden curls, ingesting Tilly's scent, a peculiar blend of orange and cinnamon.

"Is this about Henry?" Tilly mumbled, her breath tickling Ivy's ear. 

Tilly's question was unexpected, laced with a tinge of jealousy, but it didn't sound accusatory or scornful. Pulling back from Tilly's arms, Ivy's lips parted in speechless bemusement, her eyes displayed a combination of irritation and love, containing a glint of exasperation that the blonde couldn't fully comprehend.

"What? Have you been _spying_ on me?" Ivy snapped harshly.

Red blotches burned against Tilly's cheeks and tears pricked at the back of her eyes. She was flustered and agitated. The young woman looked away, to the troll monument, and then to the night sky, fixated on the bright stars, anything that might distract her enough not to cry. She lacked the fortitude and patience to endure Ivy's icy defense mechanism right now.

"No. I-I heard you the other day, at Roni's. I was going to grab a bite and-" Tilly stammered, arms dropping, and pausing for a second to recollect her thoughts, "I heard you say that you felt safe, with him."

"That doesn't-"

"I get it, Ivy. I get it." Tilly interrupted the brunette's rebuttal, stuffing both hands into her front pockets, "I wouldn't feel safe with me either. I shot a cop. I get it."

"No, you don't _get_ it." Ivy growled, annoyed by Tilly's ridiculous insecurities, "Henry Mills doesn't mean anything to me."

"But it's okay if he does, Ivy. It's okay if you want Henry." Tilly shrugged, stifling back a sob, "I just w-want you to be happy."

Tilly's bottom lip trembled, a snippy gust bursting through her olive jacket. The blonde huffed out a breath, dragging her fingers through an unruly mane of golden tresses. She blinked away tears, a veneer of moisture glossed over her eyes. Tilly didn't have more to say, no argument to make in her own favor. Henry Mills had won by default.

"You said that you loved me." Ivy's voice softened, she made a move to grab Tilly's hand, her fingers gripping the blonde's wrist and pulling the arm from out of jacket's pocket, "Why would you want me to be with someone else?"

"Love is selfless, Ivy. It means wanting the best for someone. It means that you want them to be happy, even if you aren't a part of that happiness." Tilly smiled ruefully at Ivy, "I only want you to be happy, Ivy. That's the only thing that matters to me."

Ivy's face expanded with surprise, eyebrows lifting upward and her mouth turning down into a sudden, harsh frown. She hated listening to Tilly berated herself. None of these self-deprecating remarks were true. Ivy scooted closer, reaching out to commandeer the other girl's hand, interlocking their fingers together. She would never be able to convey her feelings for Tilly using phrasal combinations. The sentiment could either be roared at the top of the brunette's lungs or remain painfully tranquil at the back of her throat.

"Don't worry about Henry Mills." Ivy murmured, "You make me feel so much more. You make me happy, Tilly, like no one else does."

"R-Really?" Tilly's soul pleaded for another reaffirming comment.

"I love you, Tilly." Ivy enunciated the three words and the name of the only person that the declaration belonged to.

Verbal reassurances would never suffice. Bringing a hand up Tilly's head, the brunette affectionately tucked away the messy yellow hair. She gathered wispy strands to push over Tilly's ear. Ivy's fingers voyage down the other young woman's face, pausing on her cheek to catch a lone tear. Ivy's thumb lingered, rubbing and smoothing out the salty sting along the small crinkles along Tilly's eyes.

Lunging forward, Ivy clasped onto Tilly's forearms with both hands, tucking her head under the blonde's chin. Tilly's breath hitched from the spontaneous movement, and Ivy could perceive how the taller girl's body had tensed. Ivy simply nestled her nose against the nape of Tilly's neck, taking a deep breath. Two lonely girls, cuddling into a loving bundle. 

Tilly's pulse had quickened due to Ivy's confession, a throbbing against her breastbone. One of Tilly's arms fastened itself over Ivy's shoulders, the other was draped around the brunette's waist. She pressed her cheek on the top of Ivy's head. A secure hold, Tilly's heart thumped rapidly and matching the rate of the Ivy's own pounding ribcage. Two bodies, encased perfectly within each other. 

Ivy brushed her lips across Tilly's collarbone, a subtle graze, a calculated risk, but the raven-haired girl had to take the chance. _I love you, Tilly_. Words and proclamations would never express what Tilly meant to her. In a realm with very limited magic, a peck on a random appendage didn't constitute a kiss. A swirled of tumultuous emotions and brittle sensations. Ivy let out a relief sigh and closed her eyes.

Captivated and engrossed, neither girl budged, appreciating the tender moment. Ivy was all sharp angles, childish sarcasm, and tightly wadded anger, but Tilly had been permitted to experience the soft edges, the sweet murmurs, and the simmering love. _Love is the only thing we take with us. It is all we carry from one life to the next._ Tilly's mind often meandered, sailing across an ocean of mounting confusion, but Ivy served as her harbor, an island amidst a sea of dismay. Melting alongside one another, two forlorn souls, finding home in each other's arms.


	71. Spare Keys

Chapter 71

Spare Keys

* * *

 

The tall, ancient trees branched out to the sky, allowing several glimmers of light to shine through the foliage. Stems and leaves created a veil, blocking the sun from entering the forest. Perpetual shadows cluttered at every corner, the ground was squishy and damp. A thick fog shrouded the area, humidity and moisture infesting the air.

The roots protruded from out of the earth, enormous brambles that covered the paths. Coils of vaporous mist enwrapped the meadow, carrying a pungent and foul odor. This sinister ecosystem was primitive, full of prehistoric ferns and prickly bushes. A sepulchral silence overhung the hallowed terrain, the crackle of dried grass echoed across the wide expanse.

Amidst such a bleak scenery, a golden flower should be easy to locate, its yellow petals would make a sharp contrast against the taupe bark of the decaying trunks. Drizella and her green-eyed companion had been trudging across the swampy meadows for hours, unable to find Mother Gothel's coveted magical plant. An ominous feeling of dread crept into Drizella's chest, the irrational fear that something was astray.

Drizella's worries didn't seem to affect the other girl journeying alongside her. Oblivious or patient, Drizella couldn't decide if the young woman was truly as naive as she appeared to be. The rustling of a paper wrapper, the blonde pulled out a lollipop and unceremoniously plucked the candy into her mouth. What a nutritional choice. Drizella scoffed to herself. Even Alice had the common sense to pack apples and sandwiches. _Are you sure that you don't want a taste? Of the apple_. Drizella's heart fluttered at the recollection. She bit her lower lip. Misguided anger, the perfect solution to Drizella's unrelenting sentimental thoughts.

"Can we have a little less lollipops and a little more finding flowers?" Drizella groused, a scowl decorated her face.

"I have a brother like you." The golden-haired girl professed, "Always a bit of a sour ball. For a long time, it seemed like we raised each other." 

Hearing about siblings who adored each other wasn't on Drizella's list of objectives. Anastasia's memory always lingered, haunting and resistant, even in the middle of an isolated jungle, the brown-haired girl's ghost came back to torment her younger sister. Phantoms, plaguing Drizella's mind, resurfacing to the forefront of her conscious.

"Well, if you guys are so tight, why isn't he sharing lollipops with you?" Drizella 

"Where you start with your siblings isn't always where you end up." A vague statement.

"And where did you end up?" Drizella pried.

"At a gingerbread house. We got caught by a witch. She tried to throw us in her oven." This young woman was another victim of witches.

"Seems like you got out okay." Drizella's icy demeanor began to thaw out as she heard the blonde's story.

"Not unscathed." The young woman admitted, "And from that day on, I was determined never to be weak to that sort of power again."

"And your brother?" Drizella could perceive that this tale wouldn't have a happy ending.

"Forever altered. His arms, scarred from burns. And his mind-" The girl's voice faltered, "Well, last I heard, he was traveling around under a different name. You might not get it, but losing a sibling eats a hole in you that's damn-near impossible to fill."

"I get it more than you know." Drizella lowered her guard, gazing at the blonde with authentic empathy, "What was his name?"

"Hansel." The green-eyed girl stared into Drizella's eyes, grinning sweetly, "I'm Gretel."

"Good to meet you, Gretel." Drizella returned the smile, "I'm Drizella." 

A reckless step forward, the snapping of a wire. A trap had been activated, but both girls sprang into action. Two enormous logs hurled toward them, hanging on a rope, a pendulum mechanism. Drizella's reflexes were impressive, an arm lifting up, the gift of telekinesis, she stopped the approaching piece of timber.

Gretel's magic was rather unusual. With a wave of her hand, the second slab of wood exploded. A bunch of multicolored morsels rained down upon the two young women. Gretel had effectively transformed a dangerous obstacle into a multitude of gumdrops. An abnormal technique, a childish spell, but effective nonetheless.

"Candy gumdrops." Drizella chuckled, "Well, I guess you did learn something in that gingerbread house after all."

Drizella smirked, watching as Gretel retrieved a candy piece from off the ground. Under certain lighting, the blonde's tresses resembled Alice's unkempt locks. Laughter and matching grins, Gretel had wormed her way beyond Drizella's hardened exterior, scraping up the few remnants of the dark-haired girl's humanity. 

"And if your abilities weren't as sharp as your tongue, we'd be flat as sugar cookies right now." A flirtatious tone, Gretel's emerald eyes flickered with something other than platonic admiration.

"Come on." Drizella was flustered, "Let's best these witches."

An insouciant and airy disposition, two long braids of golden curls cascaded over Gretel's shoulders. Tall, a slim figure, exhibiting the posture of a regal queen, straightened spine, chin held up high. An enchanting pair of jade irises, green and full of zeal. Gretel's smile was inarguably charming, a slight curling of the ends of the mouth, the crooked line of her thin lips.

The appearance of a sophisticated young woman, but the mannerisms of a little girl. Gretel was mysterious, enigmatic, optimistic, traits that Drizella had the tendency of overvaluing. Perhaps the blonde could mend her fractured heart, embroider patches onto the shards of Drizella's soul. Gretel's companionship would be enough to alleviate the brunette's loneliness.

A naive notion, the residual dregs of Drizella's idealism, presuming that Gretel could be the remedy to all the inner turmoil, a replacement for the Alice-shaped crater in her chest. Drizella was a magnificent liar. If the raven-haired sorceress kept focusing on Gretel's endearing qualities, she might even be able to believe her own lies.

* * *

A lone beam of luminosity seeped into the scoured tapestry, glistening against the floating specks of dust. A sole solar ray couldn't overpower the dark and opaque shade that the impenetrable drapes had fabricated. The quietude engulfing the compartment was pierced by the screeching sound of rotating rusted hinges. The thunderous thud of the reclosing door resonated throughout the walls.

Eyelids fluttered, opening and closing, accompanied by synchronized whimpers. Two arms stretched across a soft mess of blankets and fresh linen. After emitting a couple of raspy moans and loud yawns, Ivy finally woke up. The sun slipped between the parted curtains and glazed her face with its warmth. She squinted in response to the bright light, groaning throatily. Ivy's brain was flooded by the last images that she saw before falling asleep against a pair of loving, gentle arms. _I only want you to be happy, Ivy. That's the only thing that matters to me._ Tears wasted over unwarranted doubts, conversations about love, promises of devotion. _I love you, Tilly_. Losing consciousness on top of the concrete floor, in the middle of the street.

Tilly. The brunette lurched upright, assuming a seated position. She leaned against the headboard, bedsheets pooling over her waist. Ivy surveyed her new surroundings, taking note of each crooked furniture piece and the generic ornament. A standard motel suite. The mattress creaked underneath Ivy as she folded both legs, elbows resting on her thighs. 

"Good morning." A voice chirped from across the bedroom.

"Hey." Ivy replied, unable to organize her thoughts quickly enough to form a more eloquent greeting. 

Sitting against the edge of a small sofa, Tilly rustled a towel through the wet locks of hair. Over the surface of the couch, scattered blankets and a pillow indicated that Tilly might have slept there. Her blue eyes dazzling, she grinned at Ivy with an exuberance that was both charming and contagious, capable of coercing the corners of the brunette's mouth into shifting upward. Ivy returned the smile, forgetting for a minute that she laid on a mangy bed, inside of a shabby motel room.

Tilly had just taken a shower, she wasn't wearing her long-sleeved red flannel shirt, only clad in a camisole and a pair of denim pants. Water glistened across the blonde's porcelain skin, sliding between her cleavage. Ivy felt transfixed, staring at the round tops of Tilly's breasts, such an enticing sight to behold. So much exposed flesh, the muscles on Tilly's bare arms, the hollow clavicle under her smooth neck. Ivy's heart began to thump, a pleasurable ache traveling down from the brunette's stomach to the more intimate regions below her abdomen.

A triumphant smirk graced Tilly's facial features when she perceived Ivy's wandering eyes. The blonde basked under Ivy's direct gaze, happy to see that the young woman had grown flustered. The brunette was always wearing sinfully short skirts, displaying a curvaceous set of thighs that Tilly longed to run her hands across. It felt torturous, a visual harassment that Ivy enjoyed inflicting onto Tilly. No one who wanted to uphold some whimsical self-imposed rule of celibacy should ever appear so delectable. 

"Now you know how _I_ feel." Tilly teased, winking at Ivy.

"W-What?" Ivy stammered, a spark of indignation flared across her eyes.

"Those skimpy shirts that you wear. They are an affront to my self-control." Tilly divulged, "I had to sleep on this couch, just to keep my hands off from you."

"Well, it's not my fault that I'm irresistible." Ivy quipped, feigning an unwavering composure that she did not actually possess.

"I suppose that it isn't your fault." Tilly acquiesced, grabbing her discarded red flannel shirt from off the floor, "But I must not be that awful to look at if you couldn't stop yourself from ogling at me."

A blush burned across Ivy's cheeks, accentuating every freckle on her face. Mortification caused the brunette's pulse to speed up, a rush of blood to the head. In spite of the playful mood that had enveloped the atmosphere, Ivy remembered Tilly's insecurities, the animosity toward Henry Mills. It might seem cheesy, utterly romantic nonsense, but she felt the need to offer Tilly a compliment.

"You're pretty-" Ivy fumbled with the words, placing both hands on her lap, "You're pretty acceptable to look at too."

"Acceptable? I'll take it." Tilly ducked her head sheepishly, fingers fastening the buttons of her shirt.

"You're gorgeous, Tilly." Ivy blurted out, wringing her fingers nervously.

"Thank you, Ivy." Tilly glanced at Ivy, so much unconstrained love for the brunette was etched onto her face. 

Behind the vestige of gratitude, Ivy saw a glint of lust sparkling along Tilly's sapphire irises. The brunette averted her eyes, opting to find a distraction, an appropriate place to look at without feeling overwhelmed by an intense thrall of arousal. This unspoken vow of chastity was becoming nearly impossible to abide to, especially if Tilly continued to flaunt around in flimsy, half-buttoned garments.

Deflecting her attention, the brunette became aware of a strong, scrumptious aroma. Two coffee cups, a paper package, and Ivy's handbag, all were perched on the nightstand, indicating that Tilly had been awake for a while, taking the time to purchase treats. Ivy saw a black coat hanging over a rack, the only article of clothing missing from her body. Glancing down, she wore her blouse and skirt, evidence of Tilly's unyielding chivalry. The blonde would never disrobe Ivy without explicit consent.

A swift movement, Ivy scooted next to the nightstand, feet sliding off the mattress and flopping onto the textile floor. The paper bag crinkled as she stuck her hands inside and retrieved two pastries. Two double-fudge muffin, frosted with vanilla meringue. Tilly had never catered to Ivy's dietary habits, her phony reluctance to eat carbohydrates was often ignored.

"I suppose that one of these sugary monstrosities is mine?" Ivy quipped, holding the treats up so Tilly could see them. 

"Actually, they _both_ are. I missed one day." Tilly crossed the bedroom in two strides and flounced on top of the bed, sitting next to Ivy, "Happy Birth-"

"Ugh!" Ivy interrupted with a boisterous huff, "Why don't I just tell you when my birthday actually is?" 

"And deny me the pleasure of celebrating your _unbirthdays_?" Tilly clutched her chest theatrically, pretending to be offended.

An involuntary giggle escaped out of Ivy's mouth, she shook her head from side to side. The golden-haired girl's silly antics never ceased to amuse her. Unbirthdays were festive occasions in Wonderland, and Ivy accepted that some of Alice's soul comprised the person who Tilly was. Thoughtful, compassionate, ludicrous, Ivy wouldn't change a single trait, good or bad, she wanted everything, all the bits and pieces that made Tilly a mosaic work of art.

Cupcakes, muffins, candlesticks, coffees, motel rooms, Tilly behaved too carelessly, squandering away money, limits and boundaries must be implemented, concepts that the blonde preferred to ignore. Tilly was too much, an flowing waterfall, flooding with emotions that spilled over. Ivy confined most of her feelings, a natural weir, reserved and cautious. Their complementary nature felt like a constant dance of push and pull. 

"Tilly, I just don't want you to waste money on cupcakes, and motel rooms, and-"

"Oh, don't worry. I picked the lock." Tilly confessed, as if breaking into motel room weren't a completely illegal transgression, "Don't worry, we probably have a few hours until anyone notices."

"You what? _We_ what?" Ivy arched an eyebrow, frowning as Tilly's words sunk in.

A nonchalant chuckle, Tilly shrugged dismissively, reaching over to swipe some icing from off one of the muffins in Ivy's hands. With deliberate intent, the blonde placed the finger inside of her mouth, slowly savoring the frosting. Tilly's eyes remained fixated on Ivy's lips, a blatant provocation, an unfair diversion, and an incredibly successful tactic.

Ivy forgot herself, she rose a hand up to caress Tilly's cheek. Her thumb grazed along the golden-haired girl's jawline, watching as long eyelashes blinked, cerulean irises twinkled as if all the stars in the galaxy resided within those two pupils. Ivy sighed, her stomach churned as she saw the gorgeous smile that stretched across Tilly's lips. The blonde had a beauty capable of stealing a person's air right from out of their lungs, and that was exactly how Ivy felt, breathless and suffocated.

Dropping her fingers from off Tilly's face, Ivy reclined back, shuffling away. Surging toward the nightstand, she abandoned the muffins on top of the surface, in exchange for her handbag. Ivy's current maneuvers were fast, uncharacteristically clumsy, and even a bit inexplicably desperate. Unzipping, opening the flap, Ivy rummaged through the contents, desperately seeking an item. A jingling noise, she pulled out a set of keys.

Turning to face Tilly once more, Ivy's eyes pleaded with the blonde, begging for some sort of forgiveness that didn't make much sense. Ivy grabbed a hold of Tilly's wrist, tugging at the young woman's arm. A silent request, Ivy clasped both hands around Tilly's palm, giving the taller girl the dangling trinket. A hurried transfer, Ivy moved closer.

"The spare keys to my loft." Ivy whispered, her face inches away from Tilly's lips, a lucrative opportunity that she couldn't afford to take.

"Y-Yeah?" Tilly sputtered, unable to maintain her composure. 

"Yes. Go there tonight, and wait for me. I have to do something, maybe it will take a while, but I'll be there _soon_." Ivy stated, conviction dripping from each word, "Eat something from my fridge, watch television, do whatever you want. Just stay there for me. Please. Wait for me. Okay?"

"Any chance that you can tell me what this is all about?" Tilly let out a wry laugh, "No?"

"Please?" A soft murmur blew out of Ivy's lips, one syllable, and it was more than enough for Tilly.

"I'll wait for you, one hour, two days, three weeks, as long as it takes." Tilly nodded, sincerity gleaming across her eyes.

Leaning forward, Ivy rested her chin over Tilly's shoulder, allocating both hands on the blonde's waist. Tilly hummed, and it was the sweetest sound Ivy had ever heard. She would never tire of hearing the tender noises of contentment and happiness that escaped Tilly. Everything inside of Ivy felt as if it turned into mush as Tilly's arms slithered around her.

The blonde breathed in Ivy's unique smell, a rose-scented fragrance with a subdued hint of lavender. She could relish the aroma in close proximity, her cheek cushioned against lush, wavy, raven hair. Tilly instinctively drew a hand up and down Ivy's back, wondering how this larger-than-life girl was so impossibly petite. She heard Ivy sigh wistfully, warm breath tickling Tilly's neck.

The two young women held onto one another, pressing closer against each other, until their breasts touched. Ivy felt the pounding of a second heartbeat that thrummed much faster than her own. Tilly's palpitations decelerated, thumping in unison with Ivy's pulsations. Twin souls, converging around that moment, tethered to this realm, unable to deny the power of their unconventional relationship. Tilly and Ivy had always stood at the brink of a precipice, falling in love was inevitable, a descent that not even fate could hamper anymore.


End file.
